


Commodity

by onlyapapermoon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Sex, Amputation, Bondage, Breathplay, Bugs & Insects, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Electricity, Eventual Happy Ending, Gags, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Kink, Muteness, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Sorry Shiro, Voltron trash party, Weird Biology, Whump, shiro whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyapapermoon/pseuds/onlyapapermoon
Summary: Things seem bad when the Black Lion crash-lands on the planet Team Voltron was defending. They get worse when Shiro searches for help and soon he has to endure a kind of evil that seems familiar at first, then reveals itself to be very, very different from the Galra.Written in part for Day 5 of Voltron NSFW Week 2017 - Tricks and Traps(Dear fandom, I am so sorry, please read the tags and let me know if I missed anything!)





	1. Crashing

**Author's Note:**

> Again, if I missed a tag, please let me know! This is going to get pretty damn dark before it gets better.

Shiro had thought he was unlucky when a deflected shot from an ion cannon hit the Black Lion during a space dogfight. The communication systems were down and he’d barely had time to wonder if that was a blessing to the others, not having to hear his frantic shouting as he tried to get Black under control and stop his careening path towards the planet below, the one they’d promised to defend. There were some colorful blurs heading toward him, but the Lions were apparently stopped by Galra fighters, because no one was able to reach him before he hit the planet’s atmosphere. Shiro was only able to hang on long enough to curse his luck with a familiar resignation before the G-forces overwhelmed Black’s damaged support systems and he blacked out.

 

He was, thankfully, lucky enough to wake up again. Black’s cockpit was dark and still. From the view outside, it looked like he’d crashed in the middle of some forest. Black’s communication systems were still down, and when he reached out, she was faint in his mind, but managed to send the impression that she was healing – slowly, but still healing. When he sent out a query, she admitted with stiff embarrassment that it would be a good spicolian movement until she was repaired enough to send a signal, if she was working on her own. Shiro bit his lip and assessed his own condition.

 

He was physically okay, if banged around a bit. He had no idea how his team was doing, but the battle had been firmly swung in their favor as of when he’d been shot down, and he hoped that the others hadn’t let that throw them off. There were enough emergency supplies in Black for him to survive until she was able to send a signal, but if he could get help before then, they could repair her and get back to the fight much sooner. Mind made up, Shiro unbuckled himself and started poking around the cockpit, collecting a bag of supplies that would last him through the trip to the nearest city – he’d seen a significantly sized one during his descent, and he thanked whatever was out there that he hadn’t crashed directly into the inhabited area, just near it.

 

With a mental farewell to Black and a promise to get her some help while she rested up, Shiro headed out into the alien forest. The “trees” were blessedly far apart and spindly, so it was a bare hour’s walk before he saw faint lights ahead, flickering through the drawing dusk. Shiro picked his way over the occasional root and branch, walking more slowly as dark fell, but he still reached the city just as the smaller of the planet’s suns set below the horizon.

 

The city was brightly illuminated in the night, oddly skinny buildings spread out much like the trees and reaching for the sky. The people here were roughly human-sized and bipedal, but with four long arms and as many eyes set evenly around their heads, probably giving them an impressive 360-degree field of view. There were aliens of other kinds mixed in, and Shiro allowed himself to briefly marvel at what he could see of this civilization – the Paladins hadn’t had time to do more than review the basics about the planet before they jumped into battle with the Galra warship threatening it.

 

“Excuse me,” Shiro said, finally approaching one of the aliens that had been bemusedly observing him – well, he assumed, it was a little hard to tell where they were looking, with their four pupil-less eyes – and smiling sheepishly, trying for ‘nonthreatening.’ “I crashed my ship not far from here and need to send a signal to my friends. Is there anywhere I could do that?”

 

The alien blinked two of its eyes, then its mouth spread into a pointy-toothed grin. The oddness of the alien’s eye spacing and lack of other recognizable facial features made it hard to figure out the emotion that indicated, but Shiro was reassured when the alien followed it up by cheerfully gushing, “Of course! Just come this way.”

 

As they walked together, the alien introduced himself as “Argum” and they made small talk a bit about the city, since Shiro would rather not expose himself as a Paladin unless he had to – though the planet was under threat from the Galra, he knew that “enemy of my enemy” didn’t translate well on some planets. Apparently the reason the buildings were so far apart here was a similar reason to the trees. Where the trees had a massive root system, storing nutrients and water between rare monsoons, the buildings mimicked them by having their bulk mostly underground, the tall towers serving more as luxury housing and as some kind of lightning rod to catch energy from storms.

 

Shiro was fascinated and enjoyed the walk even as he tried to impress the urgency of sending a message to Argum.

 

Argum seemed to understand his hurry and sped up his steps. They made good time to a particular building, even better-lit than the others, and entered it. Argum directed him into a round elevator-like platform and Shiro watched the passing floors with curiosity through the clear material surrounding it.

 

They seemed to be going down through some kind of offices, then unremarkable hallways, then what looked like a subterranean nightlife district. Shiro frowned, a warning tugging at his mind. He turned around to ask Argum where they were going, but only in time to see the alien smiling with too many teeth again, and this time Shiro was able to easily decipher the emotion behind it. Before he could do more than activate his Galra hand, there was a crackling jab of something to his thigh and everything went dark.

 

-

 

When Shiro groaned himself awake, he was strapped to a table of some kind. Fuzzily, his mind mused that apparently getting shot down hadn’t been his bad luck for today, after all. This was.

 

Of course, then the restriction and hard metal beneath him registered, as did the fact that he could feel the coldness of the table on his bare skin. His muscles tensed and he struggled, vivid memories of similar experiences threatening to overcome him. His metal arm glowed without a conscious command and sheared easily through the metal holding it down. There was a loud commotion of voices, but Shiro was barely together enough to scrabble for the restraint around his neck, let alone decipher words. He felt the always-odd sensation of his activated hand contacting the metal band, but an alien that he vaguely recognized as the same species as Argum was shouting and jabbing something at his leg before he could try to free his other arm, and Shiro was out again.

 

-

 

Waking up was no more pleasant the third time. This time, though, Shiro made himself keep his breaths steady and his eyes closed, showing no sign that he was aware again.

 

He took stock of his body – still naked on a metal table, so that wasn’t good, but at least it meant he hadn’t been moved. His legs were strapped down by metal restraints around his ankles and thighs, which were spread apart farther than he was comfortable with. His arms were spread out a little by his sides, strapped down at the wrist and around the biceps – wait, no, his Galra arm didn’t feel restrained at all. That was… odd, but Shiro kept still for the time being, trying to ignore the way the joint between it and his arm ached – maybe they’d done something to it so he couldn’t move it? Shiro didn’t like that possibility, and he also didn’t like that they’d replaced the restraint around his neck, keeping his head down and presumably not letting him crane his neck to see around himself once he opened his eyes. His leg, upper and lower parts, ached from the two times he’d been jabbed with whatever they used to knock him out.

 

Shiro subtly flexed the fingers of his Galra arm, pleased when he felt them respond, and took a deep breath, preparing to spring into action. In the same moment, he opened his eyes and activated his arm, planning to slice his neck restraint again, then the other arm, then take out whoever came at his legs this time.

 

But nothing happened. The room was the same as when he’d muzzily registered it before, white metal ceiling and walls, aliens standing around him uncomfortably close, but there was no heat radiating from his hand and forearm, no reaction from the aliens other than mild interest at his open eyes and fierce expression.

 

Shiro blinked and tried to swing at them. He felt his arm respond, but when he looked down, nothing was there. His robotic arm was gone, leaving the stump of his bicep, newly-cauterized, judging by the pain and the new scars covering it.

 

Shiro felt his breath start to come faster. He didn’t consciously remember what had happened when the Galra took his arm in the first place, but that didn’t stop his brain from bringing up intense panic without any context for it. He started struggling wildly against his bonds, not even thinking about whether he **could** get out, just that he needed to.

 

One of the aliens around him sighed, and Shiro tensed as a needle was slipped into his neck. He tried to pull away, but three hands were holding his head still. When they let go, he was only able to mindlessly fight the restraints for a few more moments before lassitude slipped in and the panic slipped away.

 

His thoughts were duller now, and though he was aware that he should be terrified, he couldn’t muster the energy to respond. The aliens were still talking around him, and one of them laughed.

 

“About a varga, right?” another one asked.

 

“Around that, yeah,” said the one just letting go of Shiro’s head. A hand patted his cheek and he couldn’t jerk away, only slowly turn his head. “See, he can be good, after all!” A couple of them laughed.

 

There were tiny metal disks sitting against Shiro’s skin at various points, apparently adhesive and sending out some kind of readings, because two aliens were looking at screens, then occasionally humming and repositioning a disk. Two others were poking and prodding at his body with their bare four-fingered hands, one positioned near his head and the other at his waist.

 

“So you said he speaks normally?” One of the aliens with screens repositioned a disk, already warmed by his body heat, to the side of his neck, sliding it around for a moment before making a pleased noise and leaving it in place.

 

“Yeah,” the one near his waist said. “Argum said he was intelligent and inquisitive; really trusting, though.”

 

A couple of them snorted, and Shiro felt blood rush to his face. God, if only he’d… The self-recrimination was no match for whatever drug was in his bloodstream now, and he faded back into watchful complacency.

 

“Did he give Argum a name?”

 

“No, and we couldn’t get anything from his things. Qylpek is dealing with those and the arm, so those friends searching for him shouldn’t be able to track him down.”

 

“Alright, got it!” the one playing with the disk on his neck interrupted. They stepped away, out of Shiro’s field of vision, and returned carrying some type of jointed metal tube with a box on one end. “Jass, can you hold his mouth open?”

 

The alien that had injected Shiro, Jass, abandoned whatever they’d been doing by methodically ruffling his hair. “Got it.” Jass used their two hands to restrain his head, and the other two to easily pry his slack mouth open wide and keep it like that. Shiro tried reflexively to close his mouth, but it had about the same effect as a kitten struggling against a Galra, with whatever they’d given him.

 

The metal tube was fed into his mouth and deeper, and Shiro gagged a little. The alien holding it pulled the tube out, and frowned.

 

Without pupils, Jass couldn’t roll their eyes, but they did give a rather sassy flick of the head. “I told you about that.”

 

“Right, right,” the alien with the tube said, a little disgruntled, and they consulted their screen for a minute or two. Shiro, to his fuzzy embarrassment, felt spit beginning to trail down from the corners of his open mouth. The aliens didn’t seem to care.

 

When they were apparently satisfied, the alien with the tube returned and put the tube into Shiro’s mouth again, a little more carefully this time. They flicked a few controls on the box, then pushed the tube deeper, until Shiro’s gag reflex was just making his throat seize. Then a shock ripped through his body. If not for the restraints and Jass holding his head, Shiro would have convulsed.

 

“There we go…” The alien with the tube said, unperturbed, and lowered it further. Shiro’s body expected to tense and choke, but nothing happened and the tube slid easily down his throat. Shiro didn’t have very long to contemplate that before he was hit with another shock, and the alien pulled the tube back out with very little gentleness. Shiro still didn’t gag. “We’ll have to run some tests later, but that should be fine now,” the alien noted, leaving to put the tube thing away.

 

Jass’s head tilted toward the other end of the table, where one of the aliens was running two of their hands over Shiro’s thigh. “Did you check if his responses are the same while conscious?” Jass asked.

 

The other alien shook their head. “Not yet, still looking at the skin. It’s more elastic than I expected.” They put a finger from each hand onto Shiro’s thigh and pulled them apart, stretching the skin slightly, to demonstrate.

 

“Well, when you’re done…” Jass said, sounding a bit impatient.

 

The other alien sighed and nodded. “Fair, fair. I’m just about done anyway.” Shiro had just enough control over his thoughts to worry about what “responses” they wanted to check, and he turned out to be right. When the alien at his thigh was done poking and prodding curiously at Shiro’s skin, they moved higher. Two of their hands reached between Shiro’s legs and dug into what could be seen of the cleft of his ass from this angle. Shiro managed to jolt a little, but the alien was unbothered and spread his cheeks apart, baring him to the room. The alien’s third hand scooped his balls and dick up and out of the way, and the fourth started prodding at his asshole.

 

Shiro wanted to fight. He wanted to feel outrage and humiliation at the levels this deserved, but he couldn’t muster the emotions up and he couldn’t **fight**.

 

“Huh, it is different when he’s awake,” the alien probing him was saying. Their finger pressed harder, dry, and eventually forced its way in a little. “It’s clenching harder, and it’s more difficult to get it open.” The implication that they had – molested him while he was unconscious sat heavily in Shiro’s mind and he was absently aware he’d be having a panic attack about all this later.

 

The pain was a stronger sensation, though, and Shiro was glad when the finger went away. He was less glad when it returned again, slick with something thick and warm. This time, he couldn’t keep the finger out, and it pushed right in past his body’s natural resistance. “Okay, that’s not so bad,” the alien said thoughtfully. Their finger pumped in and out a few times, then stayed in and began twisting, rubbing inside him as if searching until – a weird isolated jolt of pleasure hit Shiro, and he felt his face warm again when his dick jumped at the sensation. The alien pressed on the spot a few more times, then nodded at seeing the same reaction each time. “Good,” they said, and Shiro really didn’t want to know what they meant by that, though he knew he was going to find out if his team didn’t locate him in time.

 

Thankfully, the finger withdrew, leaving him feeling weird and open, and at the same time, the other aliens seemed to finish whatever they were doing. “Okay, time to do clean-up, then get this going!” Jass announced cheerfully.

 

One of the other aliens eyed Shiro warily, though, and said, “We should probably…” The others swiveled their heads so they each faced Shiro with two of their eyes and nodded agreement. One of them disappeared from Shiro’s view, then reappeared with a familiar rod, and Shiro tried to make his body respond, do something, fight, but there was a crackling sound and a jolt and Shiro was out.


	2. Waking

Something was wrong. As awareness of his surroundings intensified, Shiro realized that actually, many things were wrong. The thing tugging at most of his attention, though, was an unfamiliar ache in his ass, and as soon as he registered that fully, Shiro frantically fought his way to wakefulness.

 

He was sitting against a wall, the metal of it oddly warm against his upper back and flesh arm where it was bent behind him. He could still feel his Galra arm, but he remembered that it was gone and – and there would be time to panic about that later, he told himself harshly. His remaining arm had something around the wrist that fastened it to the wall behind his lower back, keeping him from doing anything useful with it. His legs were bent and spread wide, helplessly exposing his cock and balls and inner thighs to whatever looked his direction. The backs of his calves and thighs were pressed together, with some thick band around his folded legs holding them in that position. There was also something attached to the backs of the bands, keeping his legs in position by holding his bound legs a short distance from the wall on either side of him. His pelvis already ached a little from holding the stretch for however long it had been. There was something wrapped around his head, too, over the top of his scalp and under his chin, not budging when he experimentally flexed his jaw. His ass felt weird and full, but Shiro’s brain skittered away from that, and he put off assessing that feeling for now.

 

Cautiously, Shiro slit his eyes open to survey his location. It was a fairly small room, maybe ten paces to a side, walls made of some dark red metal, but there was no front wall. Out beyond the room – or maybe it was just an alcove – a boisterous, dimly-lit bar area bustled, and he was completely on view to everyone there. Thankfully, most didn’t seem to care to look right then. The type of four-eyed alien he’d seen before actually made up a minority of the population here, so the rest were probably visitors to the planet. Was he being restrained and displayed in some kind of tourist destination?

 

Shiro fought down the possible implications ruthlessly and continued to look around as surreptitiously as he could. The only thing separating his alcove from the rest of the bar was a glowing rope stretched across the front, a sign hung on it but facing uselessly away from him. A few aliens were looking his way and two were even standing and chatting just beyond the rope, casting the occasional look at his exposed body, but there were no Galra, at least. Shiro was thankful for that small mercy, though he wasn’t sure he could count on that lasting.

 

Now that he was more conscious of his surroundings, Shiro was able to notice smaller details. The thing wrapped around his head – some kind of bridle? – had metal pieces on either side of his jaw, and there were also strips of soft material keeping it on his head by stretching over the front of his face, probably obscuring his scar, and around the back of his head. Another subtle movement of his jaw, and Shiro found he couldn’t open his mouth, which seemed like it might be a good thing in this situation, though not what he’d expected, given his nakedness and the too-interested looks some of the aliens were sending him.

 

Something was in his mouth, too, now that he was thinking about it. He hadn’t noticed at first, because it felt very much like a mouth guard, but the most comfortable one he’d ever encountered. He pushed his tongue against it and, yes, there was something hard and smooth covering his teeth, top and bottom, with a slight bulge in the back on each side where his mouth hinged.

 

In front of him and to the side, about halfway to the glowing rope, a pole stretched up from the floor, leading to a tilted metal rectangular thing on top – either another sign or a control panel. Shiro didn’t know why the latter possibility had occurred to him, but it felt right for some reason, and made him shudder.

 

Then, there was what Shiro had been avoiding thinking about. He was naked still, the slightly chill air making his skin tighten and his balls pull in and his nipples harden embarrassingly, and there was something up his ass. Shiro had never gone much for things involving his ass, since it always seemed so time-consuming compared to other ways of getting off, with the cleaning and the prep and stretching and all, and okay, maybe part of him was still scarred from the rare but memorable mentions of the horrific risks of anal sex during his sex ed class and especially during locker room banter. As a result, he had little basis for comparison, but the thing in his ass seemed big. He felt weird and full, like he should be able to look down and see it bulging out his abdomen, and though he could feel that it appreciably narrowed as it reached his hole, it was still stretching him uncomfortably. He experimentally tried shifting his hips a little, which just confirmed that the insertion was attached to the floor and widened a lot once it was inside him, keeping him in place unless he wanted to try to rip his asshole open.

 

Shiro closed his eyes fully again, just for a second. This looked bad. It looked bad, but he’d escaped captivity before. Granted, he’d had help then, but he’d survived the worst the Galra could throw at him until Ulaz could free him. This was a very different kind of “worst” and definitely something he wanted out of before his team burst in and saw him like this, but he could do this. He could do this.

 

Under the ambient music and noise of the bar, Shiro became aware of footsteps on metal, coming closer. He considered continuing to feign sleep, but he’d had more than enough surprises today – he hoped it was still ‘today,’ anyway.

 

Opening his eyes, a defiant glare in place, Shiro was confronted by a familiar alien – Argum. A twist of anger and shame burned in his gut. He couldn’t talk with the alien equipment on his head, but he could still let Argum know he wasn’t going to cooperate with whatever was going on. Shiro curled his lip and growled at him, leaning as far forward as he could with his arm restrained behind him and using every intimidation trick he could bring to bear.

 

Or, he meant to growl.

 

No sound came out, and he tried to mask his surprise, leaning back into a more comfortable position, and still glaring. He tried to make a derisive sound at Argum, but there was still no sound coming from his throat. Forgetting the situation for a moment, Shiro rushed to try talking, or at least mumbling with his mouth closed, but he couldn’t make his voice audible no matter how hard he pushed. He slumped back for a tick, eyes wide. He remembered the second shock when the tube had been down his throat, and suddenly had an idea what it had done.

 

_The pods can fix it_ , he thought frantically. _It’s probably just tissue damage or paralysis or something, and the pods are equipped to deal with that._  All he had to do was escape and get back to the Castle, and this could be fixed. He wouldn’t be stuck without a voice forever after this, unable to communicate or lead his team, another part of his body taken away from him –

 

Shiro was snapped out of his growing anxiety by a hand catching his bangs and yanking his head up.

 

“Good, you’re awake,” Argum said, still so cheerful. Shiro was breathing hard, but tried to summon up another glare. Argum ignored it, letting go of Shiro’s hair before Shiro could gather himself enough to pull away. “Sorry for lying to you earlier, but, well, you’re very pretty for whatever you are and you believed me, so ending up here is entirely your own fault.” While he talked, Argum was rummaging through a bag slung around his waist. He pulled something small out with a sound of satisfaction and knelt down.

 

Shiro saw Argum reaching for his dick and tried to jerk away, but his pelvis was firmly pinned in place by the impaling rod up his ass, and he wasn’t at an angle where he could successfully head-butt him. Argum barely noted his struggles except to glance up at him with what looked like a sly grin and say, “Oh, the customers are going to like you.”

 

Two cold hands grabbed Shiro’s limp dick and lifted it in a sad parody of an erection. Since the only thing struggling away from that gave him was a sore ass, Shiro stilled and settled for leaning his upper body as far back and away from Argum as his limited mobility allowed. That unfortunately couldn’t stop Argum from taking his third hand and pressing a little metal disk, similar to the ones that had been used when Shiro was on the table, onto the underside of his dick, just below the head. There was uncomfortable cold pressure as Argum held it in place for a moment, then Argum let go with all three hands, standing up again and sweeping his hands together as if to clean them. The disk stayed in place, cold but slowly warming to Shiro’s body temperature.

 

“You’ll find out what that’s for soon enough,” Argum informed him cheerfully. “Same with that.” He indicated a slightly raised rectangle on the floor, colored red to contrast with the dull gray metal of the floor in the alcove. Shiro noticed two square indentations in the metal directly in front of him, one in front of the other, with the red rectangle off to the side of them. Shiro couldn’t guess where this particular part was heading, but he made himself mostly ignore Argum’s provocation and focus on his surroundings for now, hoping to find something that would give him a way out.

 

The main room beyond his alcove was large, with what he guessed was half of an elongated bar visible from his vantage point. The entire area was crowded, especially closer to the bar, but there were high tables around the periphery that various aliens stood or leaned at, working on brightly colored drinks. He saw two doors; one apparently led to a kind of lounging room, and the one directly across from him seemed to open onto an elevator-platform. Sure enough, as he watched, a platform bearing a handful of aliens in some kind of fancy dress descended, and they spilled out into the bar area when the transparent doors opened. One looked in his direction with interest, but was quickly diverted by their friends pulling them toward the bar. They were all laughing about something.

 

“You won’t need instructions,” Argum was saying. “Some of the customers like a bit of confusion, and the first ones in line pay well for that kind of reaction. Hey, are you listening?” He snapped the fingers of one hand in front of Shiro’s face and Shiro reared back, pressing himself against the wall in surprise. Argum seemed pleased and continued, sounding smug. “Good. All you need to know is, your name is Stripes now. I don’t care if that’s right and neither will anyone else, so get used to answering to it.” He paused, then added with a curl of his lip, “It could have been a lot worse, so count your blessings – Jass was arguing for ‘Stumpy’.” He put a pair of hands on his hips and folded the other pair of arms in front of him, looking Shiro over critically before he nodded to himself and stepped back.

 

Without another word to Shiro, Argum moved up to the glowing rope and made a gesture at the bar. The music cut off, and there were a few groans, then some whoops of excitement and a general drunken cheer rang out. Argum’s four arms were all spread wide now, and he stood directly behind the rope, facing the crowd that was steadily gathering to crane their necks to see Shiro.

 

“Good evening, everyone!” Argum called over the lingering chatter. A ragged round of cheering answered him, and the aliens talking mostly fell silent. “You all look fantastic – especially you in the front, there, I’ve never seen horns that polished!”

 

The crowd responded to everything Argum said with tipsy enthusiasm; he complimented a few more people in the crowd before returning to the subject of their attention. “Meet Stripes, everyone!” The chatter broke out again and Shiro had to squint as the light became very bright suddenly – no, the bar area was still as dim as ever, and even harder to see now through what must have been a spotlight aimed at him. He wanted to glare at them all with the defiance he’d had for Argum, but this was ridiculous. He felt himself blushing at all of it.

 

“Don’t worry, he won’t bite!” The crowd seemed to find that hilarious. As the laughter of many species died down, Argum continued, “He looks tough, though, doesn’t he? He’s a fighter; took seven of us to wrangle him down here, so I hope you appreciate our efforts!”

 

Someone in the crowd drunkenly yelled “ **Yeah** we do!” Through the humiliation, Shiro distantly mused that apparently bars all over the galaxy were, in fact, the same.

 

Argum laughed a little and kept going despite the interruption. “You all know the rules. And if you don’t, ask one of our friendly bartenders or our **very** friendly regulars!” There were some salacious whoops and laughter. “Our auction winners go first, then the general line can start – and you’ll want to get in that line fast, or a Tarbian will get in front of you and you’ll be waiting all night!” From the way the crowd whooped again, Shiro assumed that was some off-color joke.

 

He had already figured out that they were paying to do something unpleasant involving his body, but he wasn’t sure what it was and couldn’t get his racing mind to predict it. From his vulnerable position and the little disk on his cock, he would have assumed it had something to do with his genitals, but that didn’t seem right, given the relative lack of interest they’d showed when they had him on the table. And his ass seemed blessedly unavailable to them; for a moment, Shiro was perversely grateful for whatever was plugging him. They’d bound his mouth shut, too, so that wasn’t it, and his remaining hand was locked behind him.

 

Maybe it wasn’t sexual at all? It might be that they were going to torture him. Shiro could hope. He could deal with things if they were only painful and dehumanizing. He knew he’d survived that already and, yes, he’d have a few new nightmares from this, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. He’d even had alien hands on his body before this, using and changing it against his will, so the horrors of the table had been awful, but nothing new. This kind of helpless exposure and keen focus… It was different, and he liked that maybe the least of anything about this situation. But at least no one had taken **that** from him – as far as he knew.

 

Blinking against the spots left in his vision when the spotlight turned off, Shiro saw the crowd going back to milling around and a large bipedal figure speaking with Argum, then walking toward him. The alien came through where the glowing rope had been and stopped to do something at the elevated control panel. When his vision cleared enough to make out the expression on their face as they looked at him, Shiro’s stomach dropped.

 

He’d been a source of cruel entertainment before. He’d been a weapon. But now it looked like he was going to be a toy.


	3. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are still really dark in this chapter, sorry! Please note that Breathplay has been added as a tag, and let me know if there's anything I missed warning for, please!

The alien grinning down at Shiro was at least eight feet tall, probably taller, though it was hard to tell from Shiro’s vantage point. His skin was mostly a light shade of green, where it was visible through stark white fur that was interrupted by small spines every inch or so. Some kind of fine clothing covered most of his body, the fabric looking heavy – maybe to not be punctured by the spines. The alien finished tapping something in at the control panel, only to stand still as a line of light came from the panel and seemed to scan him from waist to thighs. Then he – Shiro was going with “he” for now – started walking casually in Shiro’s direction.

 

A tick after the alien started towards him, something changed with the equipment on Shiro’s head. There was a whirring noise, too quiet to be noticed by someone not wearing the bridle, and the metal pieces on Shiro’s cheeks began lengthening, somehow, the metal shifting against his skin. There was no way to use the new slack to shake the thing off, though, because whatever was over Shiro’s teeth in his mouth started moving at the same time, hinging open so that his mouth was forced to open at the same rate as the bridle-thing expanded. Shiro’s eyes widened and he tried to grit his jaw as hard as he could to close his mouth again, but the mouth guard apparatus was unrelenting and his jaw was forced open inexorably. Soon his mouth was wide open almost to the point of pain, and Shiro was just starting to worry that the thing would dislocate his jaw when it stopped.

 

The alien was looking on with appreciation, so Shiro defiantly turned his head to the side, leaning away as far as his restraints allowed. Although there wasn’t much he could do to avoid what was probably coming, he wasn’t going to make this easy for the alien in front of him; Shiro had learned that sometimes submitting was the only way to survive, but right now there was no advantage in looking like easy prey.

 

The alien made a low repetitive sound that Shiro assumed was a laugh and reached out one of his well-muscled arms towards Shiro’s head. Shiro instinctively ducked away and did his best to dodge the alien’s hands for as long as he could. He tried to reach out and push the alien’s hands away, but nothing responded, although it felt like he was reaching out, and he remembered the absence of his right arm like a punch in the gut.

 

He narrowed his eyes and kept fighting all the same, but there was only so far he could move and the alien eventually caught hold of something on the side of the bridle that stopped Shiro’s evasion and kept his head in place. Shiro tried to jerk away, but the bridle was secure and the alien was strong, and soon he was being helplessly pulled up despite his resistance until he was kneeling upright again. The alien’s other hand came up on the other side of Shiro’s head and appeared to grab something there, and Shiro was even more firmly anchored in place.

 

From the way the muscles on the inside of the alien’s wrists were corded on either side of Shiro’s head, it looked like he was gripping something vertical just outside of Shiro’s ears. Shiro’s eyes widened and if he could, he would have groaned in horror and realization and disgust - the bridle had goddamn **handles**.

 

If he’d had any doubts left about what they had put him here for, they would have fled as soon as the alien let go with one hand to do something with the fabric over its crotch. Shiro thrashed, surprising the alien enough that he broke his grip and was able to twist his upper body sideways, not out of reach, but at least out of his hold currently. The alien looked down at him in apparent consternation and muttered “Oh for…” and used both hands now to fumble the front of his clothes open.

 

Shiro froze for a moment when he saw what came out. It was an even paler green than the rest of the alien’s skin, and appropriately huge. The length of it – as long as Shiro’s forearm and as thick as his wrist – was covered in little nubs like intense goosebumps and it bent and moved like a prehensile limb, but it was the head that had Shiro staring. Or, rather, the four heads. Shiro could have squinted and pretended that the shaft was just an oddly bendy green human penis, but the end flared out into four small heads side-by-side, making it a bit wider in one dimension than the rest of the shaft. Two of the heads on the same side were larger than the others and a darker green, obviously engorged with blood, and already beginning to drip with pearly seed.

 

Shiro stopped staring when the alien reached for his bridle again. He ducked in time and the alien pulled back, looking at him in an odd mixture of frustration and growing anticipation. “You are a fighter, aren’t you, Stripes?” the alien asked in his deep voice. “Guess that means I get to be the first to test **this** out then, as well as you.” The alien actually smiled as he stepped on the raised red rectangle on the floor.

 

An intense jangling pain shot through Shiro’s body, starting from under the head of his dick. He jerked uncontrollably, his muscles seizing, and his eyes rolled back, air escaping his open mouth as he tried to scream. He’d been electrocuted before, but never from such a sensitive location, and now he was on the verge of wishing he could cut his dick off if only it would make it stop. When the pain did stop abruptly, it left him slumping as his muscles twitched, also leaving behind a feeling like sparks pricking harshly at Shiro’s skin, concentrated painfully on his dick.

 

He panted, and heard a chuckle from overhead. “That’s better.” Then the alien’s hands were in his peripheral vision again, and he tried to jerk away on instinct. Immediately, the pain started again, shooting through his dick and making all of him hurt. Again, Shiro would have screamed if he could. He was barely aware of the hands catching onto the handles on either side of his bridle as he writhed in place, still stuck impaled on the unmoving rod in his ass, and now held in place by the bridle, too.

 

When the pain finally stopped, Shiro was breathing shallowly through his obscenely open mouth, and he couldn’t coordinate his muscles enough to resist when the alien took one last step closer, his shaft curving up like a snake to meet Shiro’s mouth and feed its way in.

 

There was a bit of difficulty fitting the wide head past Shiro’s lips until it turned sideways and went in so the four heads were lined up vertically. It pushed in, forcing its way past Shiro’s stretched lips and covered teeth, leaving smears of pre-come coating Shiro’s lips and dripping down his chin, and twisted again once it was inside so its width pushed out Shiro’s cheeks. The alien didn’t even have to move his hips as the cock fed itself in and just held Shiro’s head still and watched him react to the taste of the pre-come, thick and overwhelming him with its musk.

 

Shiro instinctively tried to push the invader out of his mouth with his tongue, but the alien just groaned and lingered there. Shiro tried harder, doing his best to ignore the unpleasant taste, not realizing the effect as he involuntarily tongued at the head. “That’s it, Stripes. Good boy,” the alien crooned in pleasure, the heads of his cock undulating in place to meet Shiro’s pushing tongue and make the most of his motions. Shiro froze as he realized what was happening, and he glared up as best he could and pulled his tongue down flat to the floor of his mouth, refusing to make this better for the alien above him. When the stimulation stopped, the alien just shrugged, although his spines went down a bit from where they’d puffed up with his pleasure. “If you’re going to be like that, then…”

 

The alien’s cock started pushing forward again without any sign of slowing down, and Shiro tried to thrash away again as he realized what was going to happen. The alien groaned when his heads hit the wet constriction at the back of Shiro’s mouth, and the cock stayed there for a moment, pushing lightly at the resistance before pulling back, only to repeat the process. Shiro desperately focused on breathing through his nose.

 

His air was completely cut off, though, when the alien’s hips twitched and his cock shoved forward, filling Shiro’s mouth and now his airway as it plunged down his throat. Shiro’s eyes widened and he tried to pull back, but there was still no give in the bridle or the alien’s firm grip, so he was held in place as the cock dragged against the walls of his throat, pushing them out in a way that should have had Shiro gagging, but didn’t now. The alien groaned loud and unashamed, pushing even deeper. Shiro’s throat was full and it was strange, so strange. Shiro felt his face growing redder. Every time he tried to get in air past the cock, the alien moaned again and twisted it around, and Shiro couldn’t concentrate enough to realize it was because the muscles in his throat were pulsing around it with every swallow.

 

The alien pulled back a little, enough that the heads were held just inside Shiro’s throat, and he frantically sucked in air through his nose, almost wheezing a little through the narrow airway left. Then the cock pushed down his throat again and it repeated all over. It went on and on like this, and Shiro’s vision began to tunnel out, his head light and spinning. His body was desperate for air but not getting enough, and he had a half-hysterical thought that he was going to die here, suffocated by an alien’s dick.

 

Just as he was beginning to lose track of even those distant thoughts, his airway was clear. His mouth was stuffed full again, but Shiro sucked in breaths gratefully through his nose, not even noticing the musky smell of the alien’s crotch almost pressed to his face. As his head cleared a little, he realized why the alien had pulled out some – not for his sake, but because he was coming, shooting spurts of come into Shiro’s mouth, across his tongue. The taste and smell registered, and Shiro tried to shake his way free again, to no further avail. He was held in place as the alien finished, come unavoidably trickling down his throat and over his lips.

 

The alien was breathing almost as hard as Shiro, his spines puffing out through his fur and making him look even larger. He sighed a content, “Yeah, so worth it…” and Shiro waited for him to pull out – it wasn’t exactly a light at the end of the tunnel, because he could see the line of aliens waiting outside the alcove, but he desperately wanted even the short respite of the aliens using him switching off.

 

The alien did pull out past Shiro’s lips, a spill of come following after, and Shiro gulped in air greedily, coughing a little when a dribble of come went down the wrong way. He closed his eyes for a second, but when he opened them, the alien was still standing there, stroking his cock lightly with one hand, a come-drunk grin on his face. Shiro furrowed his brows for a second, then looked down and paled. The two heads on one side that had previously been swollen were shrunken now, the last drips of come clinging to them along with the sheen of Shiro’s saliva. The other two heads, though, had engorged, and looked exactly like the others had before.

 

As the realization hit Shiro, the alien gave a little thrust of his hips again and his cock obligingly curled to position itself at Shiro’s lips. When Shiro looked up, the alien’s grin had sharpened. “Never been with a Dre’gex before, have you?” he asked, clearly relishing Shiro’s dismay. Shiro barely had time to force a glare at his assaulter before his head was yanked toward the alien’s crotch and the cock was forcing its way in again.

 

The process repeated. This time, the Dre’gex seemed to be slowing down and savoring the experience a bit more, pulling back more frequently to allow Shiro to wheeze in air around his heads, but then plunging in even deeper. Shiro’s eyes watered, and he could feel the occasional tear mixing with the fluids now coating the lower half of his face. By the end, Shiro’s nose was pressed into the fabric of the Dre’gex’s clothing, the cock burrowed so deep he was worried it would breech his stomach if it went farther.

 

This time, when the Dre’gex shuddered and his cock began to pulse, he didn’t bother pulling back so the heads were in Shiro’s mouth. He spilled straight down Shiro’s throat, and Shiro would have been grateful for not having to taste the rush of come if he’d been able to breathe. By the time the cock was back in his mouth, moving as if to shake out the last bits of come, Shiro’s vision had darkened and the only thing keeping him upright was the grip on the bridle’s handles.

 

He desperately gasped in air the moment it became possible, and the Dre’gex seemed amused. Shiro couldn’t bring himself to care, though, too busy coughing and finally breathing. He ignored the Dre’gex as he let go of the handles, leaving Shiro to slump as much as his bonds allowed, and walked away without more than a satisfied pat to Shiro’s cheek.

 

There was a clicking sound from the floor in front of him, though, and Shiro made himself look up – it sounded mechanical and he wasn’t going to be surprised again, though he was in no shape to fight anything new. He tensed. It was some kind of pole rising from the floor, from one of the two recessed squares directly in front of him. There was a circular attachment at the top, facing towards Shiro, and he had just enough time to brace himself before it stopped around the height of his head and water sprayed forth, soaking him in seconds. Shiro closed his eyes a little too late and turned his head away, but some water had already gotten in his eyes and in his mouth. Somehow, the pole moved with him, though, because the spray was soon hitting him directly in the face again. Shiro gave up and let the water pelt at him. At the very least, it was washing the spit and come off his face and lessening the taste on his tongue.

 

Just as he’d gotten over the shock of cold water dousing him, it stopped, and Shiro warily turned back. The pole was receding into the ground while another one rose up in front of it with a similar circular object on top. Shiro let himself just sit facing the pole for now – getting clean wasn’t something worth fighting against. The second pole blew hot air at him, just on the verge of uncomfortable, but Shiro sat still and let it dry him off with something like relief.

 

The short respite was just enough time for Shiro to center himself again. His throat ached and his mouth tasted like alien dick, but he was alive and this wouldn’t last forever. He just had to make it through until the place closed down, and then he’d be able to think up an escape plan.


	4. Taking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second-to-last paragraph implies some bathroom stuff, if that's a squick for anyone. And feel free to play what's-that-alien-dick-based-off-of!

The night didn’t get any better as it dragged on. The line of new aliens seemed never-ending, and after a certain point, Shiro gave up on fighting against unconsciousness from lack of air. No alien ever let him completely pass out, unfortunately, but honestly, the dizziness and the feeling like a metal band around his chest was still better than concentrating on the taste of the fortieth alien cock.

 

He ruthlessly kept his mind from wandering as he endured increasingly strange appendages being forced into his mouth – passing out was a weakness he would allow, but he didn’t think he could handle thinking of his team or his old crew right now, even if Matt Holt would have been absolutely fascinated by the weird variety of genitalia on display, in some less-awful situation.

 

There were things like elongated spiny spheres forced into his mouth, leaving his tongue and the insides of his cheeks raw and painful, some unfortunate thin coiled thing like a Slinky on Earth that stretched out so it could go most of the way down into his esophagus, a cock that looked unnervingly human, right up until the base swelled up behind his teeth as the big-eyed alien came, trapping its cock in his mouth for a solid few minutes as he had to swallow pulse after pulse of alien come… Some aliens didn’t even seem to orgasm; instead, shoving some appendage into his mouth that started leaking or seeping thick fluid right away. Those aliens just kept going, too, pulsing or pushing into his mouth and throat until they apparently got bored or Argum came to good-naturedly inform them it was time to give someone else a go, then the mess left behind on Shiro would be washed away in time for the next alien to start. Shiro tried very hard not to think about the nauseating way his stomach was starting to feel full, almost sloshing like when he drank too much water after a workout.

 

Part of Shiro numbly kept count of the aliens as they used him. He did his best to document their characteristics and remember any names that were said, as if that would be useful in his escape – or at least keep him clinging to sanity. He’d tried to recite old flight manuals in his head in the beginning, but the distraction didn’t work; every time he managed to successfully distance himself from what was happening, whatever alien was abusing his mouth would become even rougher with him, seeming to sense that he wasn’t paying attention and then sadistically bringing him crashing back to reality, whether by choking him until his body tried to thrash in panic and his vision darkened or by sending agonizing shocks through his genitals.

 

In the brief moments of reprieve, Shiro wondered what the hell kind of place this was. He didn’t know much about the planet as a whole, but surely their mission briefing would have mentioned a penchant for enslaving strangers for sexual tourism? He told himself that it had to be just this establishment, maybe this city; Earth had plenty of unsavory places, but it didn’t mean the entire planet was bad, or would deserve be left to the mercies of a Galra fleet. A small, bitter part of him did resent replying to their distress call in the first place, but he squashed those thoughts even as he glared viciously at his abusers. Again, for all he knew, this was the only place like it on the planet, and what he did know for certain was that he wouldn’t have been able to face his team and suggest leaving an entire planet to the Galra, even if this place **wasn’t** the only one of its kind.

 

The half-thought came to him partway through the night that at least it was him and not another Paladin that had been shot down and taken here. He didn’t allow himself to follow that train of thought, either, though – if he let himself think, even tangentially, about one of the others in his current position, he knew he’d just hurt himself in pointlessly struggling and waste valuable energy.

 

Finally, he could see the line dwindling, and before the last handful could even get their turns with him, the music turned off and the lights came up brighter in the bar area. A groan rose from the remaining aliens in line. The alien currently in his mouth rushed to finish, jerking its hips increasingly erratically until something thick and unpleasantly textured filled Shiro’s mouth. When the alien pulled out and let go of the bridle, Shiro let himself tip his head forward in exhaustion so most of the ejaculate slopped out of his open mouth and down his chin to puddle on the floor.

 

He ignored the alien as it fixed its clothes and hurried out of the alcove, and he was ignored in turn by the bar’s visitors as they bustled around, paying their tabs and gathering their outerwear. A few of the patrons shot looks back at Shiro before they entered the crush of aliens going out the doors, a handful longing and apparently regretful they hadn’t had a turn, others smug or satisfied. Shiro just concentrated on breathing and his relief that it was over – this particular kind of torment was, at least.

 

The bar eventually emptied of visitors, though the lights remained at their brighter level for a while longer as a handful of aliens in some kind of uniform swept in and cleaned the place up, mopping spilled drinks and picking up the debris of the night. One four-armed alien came into Shiro’s alcove to pick up a container that had rolled in, only focusing on Shiro himself after it had disposed of the trash.

 

Shiro looked the alien in the closest two of its eye stoically; part of him wanted to beg it for help, to let him out of his bonds and at least give him a chance to try to run. Granted, he wasn’t sure he’d make it far, with the way his hips ached and his legs had gone numb except for his painfully stretched sartorius muscles, but he had no idea how long this was supposed to continue, or how much worse it would get. He wanted to be gone before he could find out – if there was one thing Shiro did clearly remember from his captivity with the Galra, it was that even terrible situations could always get worse.

 

Still, he wasn’t naïve enough to think that the bored-looking alien cleaning up his alcove would have the inclination to help him escape on account of some pleading looks. Maybe if he could speak, he would have been able to reason with it, point out that he’d only recently been helping save the entire planet from the Galra, and keeping him imprisoned would only make it easier for the Galra to recapture it. But as it was, his mouth had been left uselessly open, the air making it dry in addition to foul-tasting from all the alien fluids, and they’d taken his voice away from him in any case.

 

The alien pursed its lips in displeasure, noticing him, and then started walking over. Shiro had a moment of unthinking hope that he’d been wrong when it stopped by the control panel, but it just fiddled with the display for a moment and Shiro’s nascent hopes collapsed when the shower-like device rose belatedly from the floor. Right, he realized, this alien was part of the cleaning crew, and apparently he was one of the bar’s fixtures that hadn’t been cleaned off yet. He had a hysterical urge to laugh, but the spray of water in his face thankfully cleared his head of that. He sobered and waited for it to be over as calmly as he could. Part of him was weirdly grateful for the spray, anyway; the alien ejaculate had started to dry uncomfortably on his lips and chin and was flaking off with each minute twitch of his spread lips.

 

By the time he was sprayed clean and dried off, the alien had mopped the metal floor of the entire alcove, including the area around and beneath Shiro. He was glad of it on some level – although there was a small drain below him for the water sprayed on him and whatever else dripped down, there had still been splashes of things that were too sticky or viscous to wash down the drain.

 

As the alien with the mop left, a new alien, another of the four-armed ones who seemed to be the native inhabitants of the planet, approached, holding a basket-type container with one of its hands.

 

“Hey there, Stripes,” it cooed at him, crouching down to his level. “How are you feeling? A little sore? It’s okay, some of the guests can get rough, but you’ll be alright.” This alien was a little smaller than Argum, but not by much, and its clothes were simpler, similar to the cleaning crew’s uniforms. Shiro watched it warily as it stood again and went to the control panel, fiddling with something until Shiro’s mouth closed some so that it was still open, but not painfully so anymore. The alien came back and bent down, resting the lower pair of hands on its thighs so it was almost level with Shiro again. “There, that’s better, isn’t it? I’m Jarpek, and I’m going to be your handler!”

 

Jarpek beamed at Shiro, baring sharp teeth in a weirdly fond smile. Shiro didn’t expect any **actual** help from his new ‘handler’ and he bristled internally at being essentially treated like an animal, but for now he decided to play along with her – he was going with ‘her’ based on the size difference, anyway, but he had no clue if he was correct. It seemed like he’d be having a lot of contact with her regardless of gender, though, and if she started off thinking of him as complacent, all the better.

 

So he just watched her and nodded a little, allowing her to see a small amount of his reluctance and wariness so that it wasn’t too obvious he was playing a part. She smiled broader at him, clapped the top two of her hands briskly, and said, “Okay, so it looks like you’ve been washed off already, that’s good. You’ll get a nice cleaning before we open tomorrow, but for now, let’s get some real food in you.”

 

Shiro startled a little. He didn’t actually know if he was hungry; it had been a long time since he’d eaten, but the low-level nausea from everything made it hard to tell how he was feeling, as did the amount of come he’d been made to swallow. But if they were feeding him, at least they’d have to take the bridle and mouthguard-thing off, and he’d be able to move his aching jaw, if nothing else.

 

He kept watching as she knelt and fished around in the basket, confusion and now trepidation growing when she pulled out a packet of something liquid and a long tube, instead of actual food. Shiro sighed internally. Apparently he wouldn’t be getting to move his jaw after all, then. He observed that he really needed to stop having misguided optimism about anything in this place.

 

It was an easy matter for Jarpek to grasp the handles on his bridle with deceptively strong hands, then use the two free ones to push the tube into his mouth and thread it down his throat, gently pushing it in as deep as any of the alien appendages had gone. If Shiro still had a working gag reflex, he was sure it would be acting up right now, but instead he just felt the tube as a foreign invader jostling his sore throat from the inside, one more in a string of too many over the night.

 

He let her tilt his head back without a fight – he reminded himself that he was playing docile for now – and she used her free hands to open some kind of spout on the packet of liquid and pour it into the tube. He couldn’t really feel whatever it was entering his stomach over the sensation of the tube pressing against the walls of his goddamn esophagus, but the full feeling from before intensified and became almost uncomfortable by the time the packet was empty and Jarpek was carefully pulling the tube back out so he could breathe easily again.

 

“There you go,” Jarpek said as she kept working, putting the tube back in the basket along with the empty packet. “That should keep you fed and hydrated for the day! Our doctors formulated it with your biology in mind, don’t worry.” She actually patted his cheek with one hand, and he had to fight himself not to violently flinch away. “So,” she said, sitting back on her heels comfortably, “we thought you’d probably be a bit sore right now, so the doctors put some painkillers in there. They’ll hold up until the evening, and wear off in time for the night to be more stimulating for you – it’ll keep you from getting bored, at least!” She seemed genuinely pleased, as if Shiro should be looking forward to the prospect of more pain to go along with his humiliation. He fought to keep his expression neutral and vaguely curious.

 

She smiled and reached out to pet his hair, smoothing his bangs back away from his face. Shiro made himself stay still, neither retreating nor leaning into the touch as she carded her hands curiously through the longer hair on top of his head, avoiding where the bridle mussed it. It was hard – although his mind wanted him to recoil from one of his captors touching him again without any care for his wishes, the gentle touch was almost overwhelming after everything else that night. He couldn’t afford to take any comfort in it, though; letting himself think of anything here as genuine affection would be foolish at best, and could sabotage an escape attempt at worst.

 

Finally, Jarpek seemed to tire of petting him, and rose to stand, clapping two of her hands again. “Alright, Stripes. Don’t worry about relieving yourself during the day, the drain is there for a reason!” She paused. “Well, multiple reasons.” Shiro could feel himself blush in sudden embarrassment, but she continued on blithely, “Your plug will handle anything else that’s necessary, so don’t be surprised if it acts up a bit before we open. Your whole station is pretty much self-cleaning. Oh! And in case you’re worried about any muscle atrophy issues, we’ll start dealing with those once you’ve settled in a little more.” She smiled warmly at him again, teeth hidden this time, and walked away, stopping at the control panel to make the bridle and mouthguard close Shiro’s mouth again. She turned so the front of her head faced him to say “Have a good day, Stripes, get some rest!” and left, the eyes on the back of her head watching him with a fond crinkle around them until she turned the corner.

 

Shiro kept up his neutral mask until he was completely out of her sight, and then sagged back against the wall, gingerly maneuvering so he didn’t jostle the plug in his ass or crush the arm trapped behind him. Everything ached, especially his hips and thighs and wrist and jaw, the last even though his mouth was finally allowed to stay closed for the first time in hours. A few seconds later, the lights shut off except for a couple by the door, and Shiro was left in the dark. He took in a deep breath and got to work.

 

He spent what he thought might have been the first hour just testing his bonds, looking for a weakness, any weakness, that would let him free himself. There was nothing. Every one of his bonds was attached firmly to the ground or the wall and he couldn’t even tell how they opened; there was no obvious clasp or hinge on them, as far as he could tell. The control panel was far out of reach, even if his remaining arm had been free, and he couldn’t see well enough to tell if there was any mechanism nearby that he’d missed. Eventually, Shiro felt himself running out of his reserves of energy. He struggled for a while longer, doggedly pushing his limits, but his movements grew slower and weaker, and he finally gave up and passed out leaning back against the wall.

 

He didn’t fully remember what he dreamt while he uneasily slept, only disjointed flashes of sensation – being strapped down to a metal table, pain, purple lights, something filling and flooding his throat until he suffocated. When he awoke, unsure how much later, he was drenched in sweat and panting through his nose. He knew that if he had his voice, he would have been crying out in his sleep, and darkly observed to himself that apparently being mute – only temporarily, obviously – had some advantages.

 

He forced the nightmares to the back of his mind as always and focused his still-exhausted mind on an escape plan, but nothing new came to him, and his circling thoughts landed on his team in the process. He knew they would come looking for him, but would they know how to find him? Argum seemed to think his colleague had taken care of Shiro’s armor and its tracking features, but if his team could just find Black and then the city, he was sure they could scan the area for his biorhythms, as long as his being held underground didn’t dampen the scanner’s efficacy, somehow.

 

Shiro made himself calm a little at the thought of the team. They would find him, he had no doubt – the longest it would take would be a week, since once Black was back online, they’d be able to locate him without any trouble. The worst case scenario was a week, he repeated to himself, taking deep breaths. He’d survived one night, and the day after he’d been taken had probably been spent on the table where they’d taken his arm and voice, so that left maybe six days. He could do this, even if he didn’t manage to escape before then. He’d just have to… endure, and hold onto his sanity with both hands. So to speak.

 

Shiro managed to calm himself, but his thoughts kept drifting anyway due to useless boredom, bouncing between what was to come once the bar opened again and how the others were doing – were they safe after the battle? He hoped that seeing him shot down hadn’t distracted them from fighting, but he guessed he’d have heard some chatter about it from the bar if the Galra had won. So they were fine. They had to be.

 

Keith was probably worried sick, though. And Pidge, and Hunk, and Lance. Allura was probably keeping it together for the sake of the others, and Coran would be doing the same, even more so…

 

Shiro shook himself out of it. He needed to focus and prepare himself for the coming night, if he wasn’t going to be able to escape just yet. Maybe he’d notice something he’d missed when the lights came back up, or there would be some kind of opening when Jarpek came back afterwards. He just had to make it through another night like the one before.

 

His skin crawled at the thought, and he pushed down the heavy dread that came along with it. This wasn’t going to be fun, but he could survive it. He’d survived the Galra, although their sadism had been less personal, from what he remembered. Still, being a captive back then was no better, since he’d been forced to hurt others in that year and at least now he was the only victim, as far as he knew. He definitely wasn’t the first, judging by how Argum had introduced him – he determinedly didn’t think about what might have happened to his predecessors, he would get out soon and make sure he was the **last** person this happened to – but the only one being hurt right now was him and he could handle this, even the new, sharper form of humiliation that went along with it.

 

He didn’t know how long he sat in the dark like that, building up his shattered defenses for the night ahead and occasionally dozing off again, but he had to shamefully make use of the drain a couple of times, his face burning despite the fact that he was alone. He got sprayed down after each time, leaving him clean, at least, so there was that. His hint that the evening was rapidly approaching came when the thing in his ass shifted somehow, then he jerked instinctively as he felt it start releasing some kind of room-temperature liquid inside of him, and he closed his eyes tightly and tried to think about anything else as the uncomfortable cleaning process went on. He wasn’t sure, since the plug had changed shapes a couple of times during the – well, during – but once it was finally over, he swore there was a further stretch in his ass. Had the plug gotten larger? Shiro didn’t like the implications of them getting him used to larger intrusions, and he vowed not to make the coming night easy on anyone using him, just in case they really were trying to “train” him somehow.

 

He heard the arrival of the staff before he saw the first one arrive, and he squinted against the lights as they came up in the bar area. The new night was beginning.


	5. Facing

Before any guests could arrive, there was apparently a bit of work to be done. A few aliens wearing the cleaning crew’s uniform were darting around and dealing with whatever last-minute cleaning there was to be done, but it was mostly a bustle of aliens in the uniform he recognized from the bar’s staff the previous night. He watched them, for lack of other things to do, and absently noted that four arms were very useful for setting up a bar, especially one with more types of strange bottles than he’d ever seen on Earth. While the coordinated chaos went on outside his alcove, he focused and tried to keep his thoughts calm and detached – patrons would be coming in very soon, and he needed to keep his head together, no matter what they were going to do to him.

 

Shiro was still taking measured breaths when a familiar figure approached, and thoughts of being untouchable flew out the window in favor of glaring at Argum.

 

“Hello, Stripes,” Argum said, smiling as usual. He jauntily walked up far too close to Shiro and leaned into his space like he belonged there. Shiro’s hearing went a little fuzzy with the intensity of his sudden anger. He had no idea what Argum thought he was doing, coming so close so casually, but the proximity finally gave him the opportunity to headbutt him **hard** , and Shiro gladly took it.

 

Argum was beginning to say something, but it was cut short by the impact – he grunted with shock and pain and staggered back, groaning and clutching his forehead. He cursed with some words that didn’t translate well but sounded vehement anyway. When he’d stopped reeling and swearing after a solid minute, he met Shiro’s fierce look with narrowed eyes of his own. “So I guess last night didn’t teach you anything, then,” he said, and slammed his foot down on the red pedal with more force than necessary.

 

Shiro’s body convulsed violently, the pain ripping away his rational thought and even the burning anger. Even slamming his head back into the wall by accident didn’t register over the sharp pain knifing through him. It was even worse than he remembered, and his body continued to twitch and twinge with the aftershocks after Argum had removed his foot from the pedal.

 

While Shiro was recovering, Argum stalked close again, though he was a little more careful this time and was still rubbing one hand over his forehead. “Try that again,” he said, looming over where Shiro was bound in a crouch, “and I’ll start renting out your ass tonight.”

 

Panting and shivering from the residual pain and muscle twitches, Shiro couldn’t stop the way his head snapped up and his eyes went wide at that.

 

Argum smiled again, the cruel satisfied one that he’d hidden from Shiro when they first met. “That got your attention, didn’t it?” The smile widened. “If you’re good, I’ll give you some time to adjust before I give the go-ahead, but if you keep misbehaving toward me and the staff…” He made a crude but unmistakable gesture with two of his hands.

 

Shiro gritted his teeth the best he could around the mouthguard and reminded himself that he’d only be trapped here six more days, at most. He’d be out of here well before he “adjusted” to the idea of that.

 

“Can you be good for me now?” Argum asked, almost kindly. His foot hovered over the red pedal.

 

Shiro breathed out his nose and closed his eyes and made himself nod.

 

“There we go,” Argum said.

 

When Shiro opened his eyes again, Argum had taken his foot away from the pedal and was crouching in front of him, close enough that Shiro felt his breath on his face. The twin threats of more pain and of being torn apart in a new way later kept Shiro from doing more than jerking back a little in surprise.

 

Argum seemed pleased with the reaction, and held up a small opaque tube of something, wiggling it in the air. “We got some requests last night. You were very popular and netted us a good profit, but a lot of the customers wanted to see you look more **wrecked** , not just broken.”

 

Shiro tamped down the reflexive shudder his body wanted to give and just glared at Argum again, even though other voices echoed insistently in his head and threatened to pull him away from reality.

 

“Now hold still,” Argum instructed, oblivious to Shiro’s internal struggle. He pushed a recessed button on one end of the tube, making something red pop out of the other, and the strangeness of the little action thankfully cleared Shiro’s head to some degree.

 

Shiro’s brows furrowed as he looked down at the odd thing, but when one of Argum’s hands started reaching for his mouth while two others held him in place with the bridle, he realized. His mind filled with a string of curses. Unable to wrench away and remembering the threats, anyway, he just closed his eyes and tried to pretend this new humiliation wasn’t happening. At least he wouldn’t be able to see how he looked.

 

The red end of the tube pressed against the bow of Shiro’s top lip and slid along to the corner, dragging wet and oddly soft over the sensitive skin. The process was repeated on the other side, and then his bottom lip was colored in. Shiro held still, not that he had much choice, even when Argum went over his lips a second time, then started playing with his mouth using both free hands, pinching and pulling Shiro’s lips out slightly as if checking that the red had covered enough.

 

He waited until Argum had let go of his face and the bridle to open his eyes again. Argum was looking at his mouth still, head tilted critically. After a moment, Argum nodded and made the red end retreat into the tube, tucking the space lipstick, or whatever it was, away in a pocket. “That should hold,” he observed, likely to himself. Then he looked up into Shiro’s eyes and slyly added, “Against the spray-downs, anyway. The customers will want to see that get smudged off at their own hands. Or, well… Not so much their **hands** ,” he allowed.

 

Argum stood up and looked Shiro over. Seeming to find his appearance satisfactory, he finally left the alcove, humming some song Shiro didn’t recognize. Shiro tried pressing his lips together out of morbid curiosity, but aside from a light waxiness, nothing felt any different. He didn’t know how lipstick from Earth would normally feel, but this wasn’t something he would even have noticed, if he hadn’t felt it being applied. He tried very hard not to picture what he looked like now, between the nudity and scars and now the makeup. A corner of his mind whispered that he needed to try harder to escape somehow; if his team found him looking like this…

 

His thoughts were derailed by the approach of another alien, one of the cleaning crew. Without so much as an acknowledgement, the alien took a rough cloth of some kind and proceeded to squirt some gel onto it, then started rubbing Shiro’s nearest leg with it. He was too tightly restrained to flinch away, and he remembered Argum’s threats too clearly to fight, anyway, so he bore it stoically as he was methodically rubbed down with the clean-smelling gel. He went where the alien moved him using the bridle as a handle, only flinching when the stump of his arm was handled.

 

When it was done, he did feel cleaner, even more so than being sprayed with water had made him feel, but he also found he could still blush a little when he noticed that the gel also left behind a sheen on his skin. It looked like he’d been oiled up, and a new wave of embarrassment threatened to swamp him until he shoved it away. There were bigger things to worry about right now than looking like some kind of bad porn star – one for people with an amputee fetish and odd standards, anyway.

 

This night, Shiro was able to watch the patrons as they started to pour in to the bar. They came in a trickle at first, then larger groups began coming down the elevator thing together, all talking or laughing raucously already. The rope was back in front of the alcove, so no one approached Shiro, though the occasional individual or group would stop by to ogle him appreciatively. More than one group of female aliens – Shiro assumed from their clothes and voices – stopped to giggle and whisper for a few minutes, scandalized and delighted at the sight of him. Soon the bar area was packed and Shiro was becoming painfully aware that the painkillers Jarpek had given him had worn off completely, leaving his cramped body aching even more than he remembered. Naturally, that was when the music stopped and Argum stepped in front of the alcove to call everyone’s attention.

 

Argum went through a similar introduction as the first time, and Shiro fixed his gaze at a point on the side wall of the alcove, pretending to tune him out. He still listened, needing to know if there were any surprises in store, but he didn’t want to chance giving some sign of weakness or direct challenge to the growing audience; either one would earn him even more attention than he was already getting. Argum’s announcements uneventfully wound down to the sound of a ragged cheer and some excited whoops, and Shiro took a deep breath.

 

The first “patron” was mostly human-looking, just with artic white skin and a stockier build. Shiro didn’t know if the familiarity made it better or worse. Either way, Shiro’s rouged lips seemed to drive him into a frenzy for some reason, and Shiro had to focus even harder than he’d expected on getting breaths in around the thick flesh shoved down his throat and on tuning out the constant heated grunts of “Fuck, that pretty little fuck-hole” and “Ah, pretty slut, look at that, blushing for my cock” and other things he managed to ignore. None of the content was completely new after the previous night, but the alien seemed fixated on staring at his mouth in a way that was, and after he’d come in Shiro’s mouth, he took his dick in hand and took an extra minute to smear the last dribbles of come over Shiro’s lips like a crude gloss over the color. When he tucked his dick away again, the head and shaft had soft red smudges decorating them.

 

There was a noticeable increase in dirty talk from the aliens after that, too – the darker part of Shiro’s sense of humor wanted to keep a running tally of how many times someone referred to his mouth as an orifice that it most certainly wasn’t. Shiro did his best to ignore it and just endure. He’d heard worse spat at him before, he knew, even if he couldn’t remember all of those times, and even if those words hadn’t chipped at his pride in quite the same way. He tried not to choke on dick and told himself that these taunts were essentially no worse than being mockingly called “pretty boy” at the Garrison by that handful of upperclassmen who were envious of his flying skills – they just wanted to humiliate him with whatever they could think of; their words didn’t actually reflect anything about his worth. They didn’t.

 

The fifth alien pulled out of Shiro’s mouth before he was done coming, and Shiro had to scrunch his eyes closed as far too much hot come streaked his face, sticking in his eyelashes and nearly shooting up his nose. He breathed shallowly through his open mouth and waited until he’d been sprayed clean and dried before opening his eyes again.

 

The new alien approaching was thin and a bit smaller than a human. It looked largely insectoid from the waist down – dark chitin-like plates covered its chest and two splayed pairs of spindly legs carried it scuttling toward him. Shiro couldn’t stop himself from glancing down to see what would be shoved in his mouth this time, but nothing was visible even from his low angle. His mouth had been closed a bit after the control panel scanned the alien, though, so whatever the appendage was, it at least wouldn’t have too much girth. He might even be able to keep breathing this time, if he was lucky.

 

When the alien stopped a good few feet away, Shiro was briefly confused, and the feeling intensified when it turned around. He wondered for a blissful moment if it had changed its mind – he wasn’t exactly looking forward to whatever odd phallus an insect-like alien might have. Instead of leaving, though, it backed towards him and the back legs straightened beneath it, raising the long tapered end of its body level with his face. Shiro closed his eyes briefly. He should have known.

 

Shiro had vague memories of butterflies flitting above the grass in the summers of his childhood, a younger version of himself watching them in fascination. He hadn’t fully understood at the time what it meant when a pair of them seemed to attach at the ends of their bodies, creating an odd, but pretty four-winged creature that he would wonder over as they moved around on a leaf like a little push-me-pull-you.

 

He shoved the innocent memories away as the alien brought its end toward him, not wanting them tainted.

 

The alien was looking over its shoulder at him, large eyes watching as it stopped his reflexive flinch by grasping his head on either side with hard curving projections from its end – claspers, Shiro realized, his horror dulled by the parade of strangeness he’d already been subjected to since he woke up in this club. The claspers gripped his head directly, bypassing the handles on the bridle, and the hardness of the exoskeleton squeezed him firmly. Shiro’s view was blotted out by the alien’s end and he had to cross his eyes a little to see the appendage emerging from between the claspers. It was long and thin, made of or covered by more of the chitinous material.

 

He couldn’t move away or close his mouth as the thing extended straight between his lips, prodding stiffly at the back of his throat. It was odd and painful, and he couldn’t help but think of it as the world’s most aggressive throat-swabbing. Shiro had no idea how the alien was receiving pleasure from this; surely the exoskeleton was numbing any sensation in the organ? It wasn’t even thrusting, just leaving the tip jabbed against the soft flesh of his throat, but it must have been enjoying itself, because his watering eyes noted the alien’s antennae twitching spasmodically and an expression of rapture crossing its face.

 

It was less than a minute before the pressure at the back of his throat intensified, and the claspers tightened around his head as he felt something coming out of the phallus’s tip, something slimy and yielding. The alien shifted its rear end so that Shiro’s head was forced forward and tilted back, and the intrusion seemed to grow in size, then slid directly down his throat. He wished he could have coughed and gagged the thing up, but he was forced to let it slide down instead; it was like swallowing an unpleasantly squishy egg whole.

 

When the alien released him and walked off, Shiro could feel the thing sitting heavy in his stomach, and he hoped to hell that Argum wouldn’t allow a patron do anything that would actually kill him.

 

There was no time to weigh the financial benefit the bar got from keeping him alive, because the next alien approaching seemed to stand at the control panel a little too long, and Shiro would have groaned if he could – the light coming from the control panel scanned far too large an area for him to be comfortable with. He couldn’t make anything specific out through the alien’s clothes, but whatever was getting scanned apparently ran from the upper part of its abdomen to just above where its short legs met its body.

 

This alien had something insectoid about it, as well, almost like a beetle stood up on its hind legs, though still mostly shaped like a four-armed human, if far stockier and with skinnier arms than the four-armed race that made this planet their home. It didn’t have the same elongated rear end as the previous alien, so Shiro assumed its genitalia would reside roughly between its legs in what seemed to be the most common body plan.

 

He was surprised, then, when after the alien approached him and grabbed hold of the handles with its lower pair of claw-like hands, the front of its garment opened at what was almost chest-level and the tip of something thin angled out. The confusion didn’t last too long, though, replaced by that now-familiar dulled horror. The alien’s phallus actually did, indeed, begin between its legs, but it was at least three feet long and had been folded up along its front. Shiro had no idea how that was going to fit in his throat, and he wished he didn’t have to find out.

 

He tried to mentally prepare himself; this wasn’t actually the most terrifying or even longest thing that had been shoved into his mouth so far, just the longest rigid one. The spine on the end admittedly looked very bad, but he’d seen other similar tips that had turned out to be flexible and less sharp than they appeared.

 

The alien forced his head back so that he was sitting completely upright, crushing his arm against the wall behind him, and its phallus moved on its own, angling toward his mouth… and then down, and further down, until it was pointed at his chest.

 

Shiro’s confusion was all too brief. When the tip of the spine pressed against the naked skin of his chest, it became apparent that this spine was not at all flexible or soft – it was hard as steel, and very, very sharp. Shiro’s eyes went wide, and he tried to thrash away. He almost broke free, making the spine score a shallow line of red on his chest as he jerked to the side, but the alien grunted and brought its upper pair of arms into play, grabbing his hair along with the handles and forcing him back into stillness.

 

The spine began to put pressure on a spot between his ribs, and he wondered if **this** was how he was going to die, then, and in a stray dark thought realized that it would at least be preferable to choking to death on some alien’s cock.

 

“Whoa, there!”

 

The pressure relented and the alien pulled back a little, leaving behind a tiny puncture that immediately began beading with blood. Argum was there, waving two of his hands and smiling apologetically at the alien.

 

“First time, right?” Argum asked, coming to a stop a few feet away, and when the alien nodded, he continued, “Alright, no harm done, don’t worry about it. We have a rule against traumatic insertions, though – nothing personal, it just ends things early for everyone else.”

 

“Oh.” The alien let go of Shiro’s head with all four hands, letting him press himself panting against the wall, as if that would protect him, and used one of its upper hands to rub the back of its neck. “Sorry… Damn, though,” it said in an odd, chirping voice. It was hard for Shiro to place the tone between the strangeness of its voice and the pounding of blood in his ears, but it seemed dejected.

 

Argum just smiled and clapped two of his hands onto the alien’s back, turning it and leading it away towards the bar area. “Yeah, I know, but that’s the rule. How about a drink on the house to make up for it? Maybe you’ll have better luck at the bar.”

 

Shiro was still panting through his open mouth when the next patron approached.


	6. Holding

The next alien’s species seemed familiar somehow. Shiro wasn’t sure if it was one he’d encountered in the Arena, or if he’d just run into others somewhere since. The alien **looked** aggressive, though, even without the way he swaggered toward the control panel – the exposed skin of his bulging arms showed battle scars, and the tusks projecting from his mouth were sharpened to fine points. Shiro’s still-pounding heart wasn’t calmed at all by the look the alien gave him as the scan completed and Shiro’s mouth was forced a fraction wider.

 

Still rattled from the narrow escape with the previous alien, Shiro couldn’t control the fear in his eyes when he looked up.

 

The alien seemed pleased. He reached out and grabbed the bridle’s handles, jerking Shiro forward roughly. Rather than undoing his belt right away, though, the alien took a moment to tilt Shiro’s head from side to side as if examining him. It was embarrassing, especially knowing what his face had to look like by that point, but the distraction was enough for Shiro to get himself under control and blank out his expression.

 

The alien’s eyes narrowed, but then a smirk curled his lips around the tusks. “Stripes, huh?” he said. “Bet you used to be real pretty, before you lost all those fights.”

 

Oddly, the reminder of his past fights – most of which he’d won, as far as he knew – helped bolster Shiro’s determination to make it through and not give this patron what he wanted. He was a fighter, he was a survivor, and he wasn’t going to give up here. His heartbeat slowed from its panicked drumming to something closer to normal.

 

The alien let go with one hand to fumble with his belt and the front of his trousers, pulling out yet another strange phallus. This one was thinner than he’d expected, but it coiled like a stretched-out spring, narrowing down to a blunt, mostly-featureless tip. Shiro let his vision go distant, not focusing on the alien or his dick, now that he knew he wouldn’t be dealing with anything obviously hazardous.

 

“Hey!”

 

Apparently that offended the alien, because he used his free hand to slap Shiro’s face harshly. With his head held in place, Shiro was made to take the full impact and his eyes slammed shut with the pain.

 

“You’re gonna pay attention to this,” the alien told him, or maybe threatened. His free hand gripped the unused handle. “You’re gonna take my cock in that whore mouth, and you’re gonna love it. Got it?” After a second, the alien’s smirk grew and he used the handles to force Shiro to nod his head and snickered. “Good,” he said.

 

The alien adjusted his hips and tried to thrust into Shiro’s mouth without further ceremony, but the tip caught on the corner of Shiro’s lips and slid to the side, smearing pre-come along Shiro’s still-stinging cheek instead. He huffed and hastily tried again, this time grinning when he hit the mark and his dick sunk in. When the tip hit Shiro’s tongue, he felt like gagging. He’d noticed the foul smell emanating from the alien’s crotch as it had come closer, but the taste was excruciating. He must have screwed up his face as much as he could, because the alien snickered again and pushed even deeper at a new angle, forcing his coiling dick down onto Shiro’s tongue as much as he could.

 

“Taste that? That’s what a **man** tastes like,” the alien said, then, as an afterthought, added “bitch.” Then he started thrusting. The in-and-out pumping of the shaft was made worse by the way it twisted back and forth at the same time, spiraling so that it filled Shiro’s mouth and pressed against different parts of his tongue in an unpredictable pattern. Shiro wasn’t used to that kind of motion; though it wasn’t quite the first to twist around like that, it was hard to prepare himself to take the next thrust and the strangeness made it harder to pull away mentally. The overwhelmingly foul taste anchored him to the awful moment even more firmly, as did the alien’s grunted words.

 

“That’s right, take it... Yeah, you like that, choking on my cock.” The alien began to pick up the pace. “Fucking your face and you can’t do anything about it, huh, Stripes?” he panted. “You gonna fight me? No?” He gave an especially harsh thrust that went deeper, down Shiro’s throat, and Shiro’s eyes watered from the pressure inside and the godawful taste. “Yeah, bitch like you, all you can do is take it, huh.”

 

The alien kept going, pumping further into Shiro’s throat until Shiro’s face was colliding with his lower stomach and Shiro felt nauseous from the all-encompassing smell. The alien’s words had devolved into variations on “Fuck fuck fuck” and “That’s – yeah, **take** it” and constant repetitions of “bitch,” and it was all Shiro could do to listen to them now, anything to distract from the smell and taste assaulting him.

 

When the alien’s hips stuttered and Shiro’s nose was pressed hard into the bottom of the alien’s shirt, Shiro closed his eyes and waited. Sure enough, he felt spurts of liquid start to run down his throat. The alien groaned, but rather than withdrawing, he ground deeper, pulled out a bit, and pressed back in. In a few seconds, he was thrusting again, all while more come spilled out. Shiro’s eyes snapped open in surprise, but the alien just didn’t stop coming, even as he resumed fucking Shiro’s mouth.

 

Shiro had no idea how longer it had been when the alien lost any semblance of rhythm in his thrusts again, but come still hadn’t stopped spraying erratically down his throat. He wasn’t sure what to expect next, but it still managed to be an unpleasant surprise when the come changed in thickness; the next burst to come out was heavier, stickier, and somehow even more disgusting. Shiro would have groaned if he could have – but then, if he still had his voice, this whole thing might not have happened in the first place. He fought back the nausea and made himself listen to the alien’s words; no matter how foul they were, they were at least a distraction from the even fouler slime being shot off inside him.

 

“Aw, yeah, taste it,” the alien was saying. “You like that, getting a belly full of my come, don’t you? Can’t do anything about it… Bet you don’t even need those cuffs, huh, you want it, all you’re good for,” the alien rambled. “Little cocksucker, look at you, such a fucking… Uh!”

 

The alien’s movements became jerky again, and Shiro was expecting it this time when the come became even thicker, practically coming out in globs now. It was still miserable though, and the come threatened to clog his throat until he had to start actively swallowing, making the alien groan all over again.

 

“That’s it, work my cock…” The alien pulled Shiro’s reddening face flush against his body and ground his rotating dick in deep. “Such a **good** bitch.”

 

Finally, **finally** the alien seemed to stop coming. He pulled back a little and gave a few last thrusts, then withdrew completely, pausing to purposefully rub the tip of his dick on Shiro’s tongue on the way. The concentrated flavor was enough to make Shiro’s eyes water even more, and he wished more than anything in that moment to be able to spit the taste out of his mouth.

 

The alien, limp dick still hanging out, pushed Shiro’s head away and tilted it up so he could look at Shiro’s face. The alien’s own face was flushed and his eyes gleamed, satisfied and malicious. “Look how fucked-out you are. Bet you liked that, didn’t you.” He reached out with a thumb and wiped at the wet trails running down the side of Shiro’s face. “Aw,” he said, voice dropping even lower, “don’t cry.” He grinned. “There are plenty more cocks waiting for you.” He let go of one of the handles to rub his tear-wet thumb around Shiro’s swollen lips. His eyes went half-lidded, and he dipped his thumb inside Shiro’s mouth, hooking it inside his teeth and rubbing at whatever he could reach while Shiro couldn’t do anything about it. “Besides… I know you’ll miss me, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” His smile sharpened, and he let go with both hands, letting Shiro slump down.

 

Shiro didn’t bother looking up as the alien tucked himself in and walked away, too busy letting all the spit and come he could gather drip from his open mouth and down the drain. The harsh spray of water was welcome when it came, rinsing away the worst of the fluids. He kept his eyes closed even after the spray was done with and he was dried off, and focused on just breathing shallowly. He had made it through that one. He knew there would be another, and another after that, for who knew how long, but at least those would each be a new kind of awful. If there was a small mercy to the strangeness of what he was being forced to endure, it was that he never had to worry about knowing what to dread next – at least until tomorrow night, when the last alien had said he’d be back, but Shiro’s mind skittered away from that knowledge.

 

He was still recovering from the nausea when the sound of footsteps forced him to open his eyes and look up. Another alien was there, bigger than the previous one and already unhooking the front of his garment.

 

This time was almost blissfully easy, in comparison to the others. He soon realized with a weird sense of relief that he didn’t have to pay the latest alien as much attention; the alien didn’t seem to care enough about Shiro to taunt or purposefully humiliate him, simply grabbing him by the bridle and shoving his head towards its crotch, and it didn’t have anything dangerous or particularly unpleasant in the way of genitalia. It had just a pair of oblong-shaped spiky things that came out of sheaths on its lower abdomen and constantly leaked come all over his face and lips. Even though the short blunt spines rubbed his lips red enough to replace the lipstick that must have worn off by now – he hoped – the two almost-spheres were too short to even reach the back of his mouth, let alone cut of his breath.

 

As a result, his attention was able to wander a little, and he observed that the line in front of his alcove seemed even longer than the previous night. Once he saw the size and dangerous leers of some of the aliens in line, though, he quickly redirected his gaze toward the bar, instead. He could only catch glimpses when his head wasn’t being jerked forward and his vision overwhelmed by the body of the alien in front of him, but from what he could see, it seemed to be a busy night. Maybe it was the equivalent of the weekend on this planet, or a holiday?

 

A new group of patrons came spilling out of the elevator thing, most in fancy dress, but a pair of them caught his eye before he was jerked forward again onto one of the alien’s cocks. A second later, his head was being pushed back and he could see the bar once more. The odd pair was still there, walking right past what Shiro assumed was the coat check without removing their all-covering cloaks. That struck Shiro as odd, since there was nothing particularly **nice** about their hooded cloaks, and the other aliens in the bar seemed to be shooting them odd looks, too, from the brief glimpses Shiro could catch.

 

The alien pulled him onto one of its cocks and held him there for a good few seconds, so Shiro couldn’t see anything but its lower abdomen again, but something was scratching insistently at the back of his mind.

 

He was overreacting, though. He ignored the little skip in his heartbeat, the tightening in his chest at the sense that he recognized the way the two newcomers moved. He made himself remember the other times he’d let himself hope in this place, and closed his eyes tightly rather than continue to look around, focusing on the sharp taste of this alien’s come and the soreness in his jaw and the stinging little scrapes the cocks were scribing on the inside of his mouth. He just had to get through tonight, and then maybe the next night, and sooner or later Argum or Jarpek or someone would slip up and he’d be able to escape on his own.

 

As the seconds ticked by and the alien forced Shiro’s mouth onto its other cock, Shiro’s irrational hope sank and his resolve strengthened. He could do this. The buzz of the bar hummed in his ears, the occasional alien laugh piercing through the sounds of chatter and the clinking of glass and the wet sounds of Shiro’s mouth being worked over the alien’s flesh. He would have sighed if he hadn’t been too focused on breathing around the cock in his mouth.

 

“SHIRO?”

 

The yell cut through everything and Shiro’s breath caught. His eyes snapped open. He couldn’t see anything but scales and fabric; the alien had paused with its hips pressed right up against his mouth. But he knew Keith’s voice.

 

He also recognized Pidge’s, as her own scream of “Shiro!” followed.

 

The alien seemed to freeze in confusion along with the rest of the place; the chatter had stopped for a moment and only the music played on. Then Keith was yelling, “Get away from him!” with deadly rage in his voice and the alien seemed to let go of Shiro instinctively, turning, then giving a full-body jerk, then beginning to stumble away without even fixing its clothing.

 

Now Shiro could see again, and the first thing he saw was Keith, in full Paladin armor – that must have been what the cloaks were for, Shiro realized distantly – slashing his blade at the retreating alien. There was a splash of blood, but Keith didn’t seem to be aiming for the kill, and turned his wild-eyed attention to Shiro rather than pursuing the alien as it screeched and staggered off into a dead run.

 

There was horror in Keith’s eyes, and Shiro had to look away. He could guess what he looked like right now, with his legs spread and his mouth hanging open stupidly, alien come covering his face, and for an insane second he wished that Keith would leave.

 

Movement caught his eye, though, and he looked back to see Keith starting as if to chase after the alien – Shiro wished he could talk to order him not to bother, that it wasn’t even one of the bad ones, but his voice was as impotent as the rest of him right now. Pidge’s voice came instead, strained, as she said “Oh my god – Keith, I need you here, security’s on its way and they don’t look happy!” When Keith hesitated, looking at Shiro again, Pidge snapped, “I’ll get him out of that, you handle these guys!”

 

“We’ll get you out of here,” Keith finally said, looking at Shiro with the kind of intense determination that usually preceded him doing something noble, but insane. Shiro went to protest on instinct, but no sounds escaped his throat and Keith was moving after a last glance, dashing away and skidding to a stop at the front of the alcove, where he raised his bayard against the approaching team of enormous aliens in uniform. _Dammit, Keith_ , Shiro thought desperately.

 

Pidge came over in Keith’s stead and immediately went to the control panel, muttering to herself, or maybe to Shiro, though he couldn’t catch the words over the chaos and sounds of pitched battle now going on outside the alcove. Something she saw on the display made her make a sound like she’d been punched, and her horrified gaze shot to Shiro, but she clenched her jaw after a split-second and resolutely went back to typing. His heart clenched with guilt – Pidge shouldn’t have to deal with things like **this** …

 

After a few more seconds, she looked up at Shiro with suspiciously wet eyes and said in a voice that desperately wanted to be calm, “It’s okay, I’ve got this. Just – hold on, okay? I’m letting you go now.” Her hands shook a little as she typed some last thing in, and the bonds holding Shiro let go all at once. The bands around his legs opened and fell away and his wrist was released from the wall. At the same time, he could feel the odd sensation of the thing in his ass narrowing to a much thinner diameter before sliding out of him as it seemed to sink into the floor. The mouth guard thing in his mouth released itself from his teeth and closed, falling out of his mouth when he slumped forward onto the wet metal floor, unable to catch himself with an arm weakened by however many days of inactivity.

 

When he looked up, he could see Pidge hurrying toward him. Keith was still at the entrance of the alcove beyond her, holding off three of the security team with vicious efficiency; two of them were already on the floor, groaning and bleeding.

 

“Can you get up?” Pidge was asking as she slipped her hands under his shoulders and tried to lift him up. He did his best to help, but he could barely feel his arm or legs, and she struggled to get him into a sitting position. That leaned him right back against the wall where he’d been, though, and had Shiro jerking away on terrified reflex and falling forward again before he could think.

 

This time, Pidge managed to catch him, mostly, or at least managed to duck under his arm and keep him from completely face-planting with her body. She seemed to see the problem and thankfully didn’t react beyond a glance at the spot he’d been and a shaky nod, because she clumsily hauled them both forward a couple of feet instead of leaning him back in place. Still supporting him awkwardly, she twisted so she could tug at a few straps on the bridle thing until it loosened and fell away. The moment he didn’t need to hold still for her anymore, Shiro tried to straighten up so he could lean a little less weight on his much smaller teammate, even though that put his weight over his ass, which still felt sore and embarrassingly open. He ignored it and tried flexing his jaw a few times, wincing as the joint practically creaked from lack of voluntary use.

 

“Okay,” Pidge said, still flustered and a bit shaky, “I need to go help Keith for a second, just – stay here?” She seemed to realize how unnecessary that was a second too late, but she just winced and slipped out from under Shiro’s arm. He slowly managed to get his bent knees under himself, not quite kneeling. She hesitated while he moved, as if expecting a reply, but just nodded decisively and pushed herself up as quickly as she could. She dashed to the front of the alcove to help Keith, faintly muttering something into her helmet about, “Hunk, Lance, we got him, Code Blue is a go.”

 

Keith was still holding his own against the remaining two security guards; it seemed that training and pure rage were on his side, even if they’d started with greater numbers. Pidge’s arrival distracted one enough for Keith to cut him down and made the other apparently decide his job wasn’t worth his life and turn to run away. Pidge grabbed Keith’s arm before he could chase after him and tugged, and after a shared look, they both rushed back to Shiro.

 

Though the weakness in his body had forced him to give up on an upright stance and slump down over his knees, curling around himself, Shiro had at least managed to get his arm working well enough to shakily reach under the head of his dick and fumble with the metal disk Argum had placed there. Thankfully, it came off easily and he was able to weakly fling the tiny device away into a corner just as Keith knelt down beside him.

 

“Hey,” Keith said, voice cracking a little. Shiro lifted his head and tried to push himself up, uncomfortable with this version of child’s pose now that the others were closer to see. Keith picked up on it right away and helped him into a more-or-less kneeling position, leaning against his side. “We got you, okay? Lance and Hunk are on their way with the police – I think the cops were in on this place,” even if Shiro hadn’t been looking, he would have heard the scowl in Keith’s wavering voice, “but they didn’t know you were a Paladin and Allura made them help us, anyway. Don’t worry, everyone who did this is going to **pay**.”

 

The rest of Keith’s words seemed to die in his throat after that and he just sat there in awkward silence, steadying Shiro with a too-careful arm around his waist. After a moment longer of looking at Shiro, his brows furrowed and he hesitantly said, “We’ll get you some clothes and stuff, but what’s – is everything…?” Keith was looking scared now, the longer Shiro went without responding, and Pidge was mirroring his expression from where she hovered next to them.

 

Shiro looked away for a moment in shame. He wanted to reassure Keith and Pidge that he was okay, he’d made it through and he’d be fine soon enough, but all he could do was draw in a breath, then face them again in resignation and mouth, _I can’t talk_.

 

Keith’s eyes went wide and Pidge audibly gasped, but before either of them could react further, a new bout of yelling started and a large number of the four-armed aliens in official-looking uniforms burst in from the entrance the cleaning staff had used, heightening the chaos of all the patrons trying to push aboard the elevator at the same time.

 

Under the sounds of renewed screaming and shouting and bottles breaking, Keith gripped Shiro’s waist harder and just vowed, “We’ll fix this.”

 

Shiro looked at him and Pidge and managed a small, strained smile. _I know_ , he mouthed back.


	7. Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in this last chapter, fixing things is always harder than breaking them, lol.

The fighting wrapped up quickly, with the security team disabled, and soon enough Shiro was being wrapped in one of the discarded cloaks by Keith, who couldn’t seem to stop himself from hovering nearby, even as Hunk, newly arrived, got Shiro’s arm thrown over his shoulder to help him walk. Lance and Hunk had been horrified when they arrived and saw Shiro, even though Shiro had tried to smile weakly at them, and Pidge was murmuring something to Lance in a low, rapid tone that had his head snapping toward Shiro and his mouth dropping open before clicking shut and his jaw tightening. Shiro just shook his head at Lance and tried for a quirk of his sore lips, trying to say, ‘Whatever happened, I’m fine now, see? No need to worry.’

 

Meanwhile, Hunk was rambling at Shiro, explaining how they’d flown over the forest searching for him until finding the Black Lion via visual scans, then tracked him to civilization. Apparently, the four other Paladins had split into teams of two and canvassed the city, where Pidge and Keith found the fence selling off Shiro’s prosthetic and armor – Hunk seemed oddly sheepish as he skimmed over this part for some reason – and from there, they discovered the connection to the club and had worked with the local police to set up a rescue.

 

Hunk was just finishing up his story when they got to the elevator and the four of them crowded around Shiro as he staggered in. He was a bit embarrassed but still touched by the way they all seemed ready to catch him if his legs gave out. As the platform began to rise up and finally take them out of the club, Hunk looked at Shiro expectantly. Shiro realized Hunk was anxiously waiting for some kind of response, but before he could figure out how to break it to him and Lance, Keith picked up on the problem with his usual intense focus and bluntly said, “He can’t talk. They did something to his voice.”

 

Lance audibly gasped and Hunk’s jaw dropped. Shiro shrugged his right shoulder and nodded. “And your chest?” Hunk asked, then added, “You’re kind of bleeding?” He managed to turn it into a question. Shiro looked down where Hunk was looking and, sure enough, the puncture wound from the insectoid alien had created a little blotch on the dark fabric. Huh. Apparently moving around had aggravated it. Still, Shiro just nodded and carefully mouthed, _It’s not bad_.

 

Keith gave Shiro an upset, but weary look, and Pidge chimed in, leaning around Shiro to see Hunk, “It looked like a puncture wound. We can check it out back at the Castle, we should get out of here first.”

 

Hunk looked hesitant, but nodded. Lance was frowning, and carefully asked, “Um, Shiro? What’s the stuff on your face?”

 

Shiro felt himself flush because, of course, his team was going to have to know what had happened to him after bursting in on it, but he wished he could have escaped with as few of them finding out as possible.

 

Thankfully, Lance clarified what he’d meant by waving a hand in a vague gesture around his own lips, and Shiro realized with a rush of breathtaking gratitude that it was more likely Lance meant the remnants of the lipstick than any alien semen he hadn’t been able to wipe away. He just pressed his lips together and shook his head, mouthing, _Later_. He swiped a corner over the cloak over the lower half of his face self-consciously, anyway.

 

Lance nodded and subsided, treating Shiro with an embarrassing delicacy. Keith just sent worried looks in Shiro’s direction, but didn’t ask any questions that Shiro couldn’t answer right now.

 

Allura was there when they exited the building into the cool night. Shiro took a deep breath of the fresh air, closing his eyes for a moment, before aiming an attempt at a smile at the Princess. Shock and confusion warred on her face, but she immediately came to Shiro and began to fuss over him along with the others, informing him that Coran was at police headquarters, overseeing management of the operation. She went on about the logistics of the rescue and Shiro was grateful to it; she had apparently sensed that a distraction would be of more help than an interrogation, and let him just listen attentively.

 

-

 

An hour later saw them all together back at the Castle; Coran had taken Shiro to the med bay to clean him up and look him over at first, handing him a tablet so he could type out answers one-handed to Coran’s carefully-worded questions while Coran ran various scanners over his body. With the wound on his chest bandaged and no damage elsewhere bad enough to require a cryo tube, Coran eventually let Shiro put on his clothes and rejoin the others. Meanwhile, Coran promised to go over the data so he could work out how to restore Shiro’s arm and voice – the confirmation that the damage to his throat was reversible had been enough to make Shiro dizzy with relief for a minute. He would be relieved to have a functional right arm again, too, of course, but the idea of attaching the Galra tech back onto his body was somehow less of a relief than knowing he’d be able to talk.

 

Fully dressed in his own clothes and able to communicate some using the tablet he had taken with him, Shiro felt like things were shakily approaching normal again. At the same time, walking through the Castle’s halls on the way to the lounge felt strange. His surroundings were just the same as they’d been before he was shot down and taken, but something about the whole thing was almost dreamlike. Everything was going back to normal now, and **right** – except for him.

 

Shiro shook his head and pushed the feeling away as he entered the lounge where the others waited anxiously. He smiled with his aching mouth when they greeted him and did his best to walk normally to a seat and let them pretend not to notice that his right sleeve was pinned up for the time being, or the way sitting down made him hiss in discomfort. Then it was time to debrief.

 

Keith and Pidge knew the basics of what had happened to him in uncomfortable detail – they’d walked right in on it, after all, and Pidge no doubt knew far more than she should after dealing with the control panel. Shiro didn’t know if they’d filled in Lance and Hunk and Allura yet, but the distress on their faces when they read his typed statements suggested they hadn’t been warned, and Shiro had to wince in guilt as tears gathered in Hunk’s horrified eyes.

 

Shiro gave his team as much honesty and as little detail as he could when he explained what had happened; they deserved to know the truth, but they **didn’t** deserve to hear about the depths to which some people sunk. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to type out everything that had gone on in that alcove of the club, anyway.

 

Once he’d answered his team’s many, increasingly upset, questions with careful candor, he was almost glad to escape to the police station. He was going with Allura and Pidge – and Keith, who was going to be impossible to shake, now – to answer more questions, but this time, at least it was for people who he had no emotional connection to, people who wouldn’t react in ways that tore at his heart and made it hard to continue typing out things that would hurt them to read.

 

Working with the police really was better than having to admit to his team what had been done to him, but it was still taxing. Shiro got the impression that what Keith said had been right – they’d been at least vaguely aware of what went on in that club, and they were all on-edge and deeply nervous now that they realized what they’d allowed to happen to a Paladin of Voltron. A flicker of righteous rage sparked in him, and normally he would have had a lot to say about that, but now, Shiro was tired. Every one of his muscles still ached – walking **hurt** and it felt like his hips had been practically dislocated from the way he’d been bound, and his throat and ass still sang with pain – and going down another elevator into the underground station had nearly sent him into a panic attack. Sitting down once they arrived was a relief, but something about looking up at the four-armed officers as they stood nearby attentively made it a challenge to focus enough to just get through everything. So he let Allura deal with them with icy diplomacy for the most part while Keith handled glaring at them until at least one officer hurried out of the room in a nervous sweat. Shiro stuck to just answering questions and giving as many names and descriptions as he could remember.

 

When he got to “Qylpek,” Pidge’s eyes lit up and she nodded. Apparently, the fence they’d found had led them right to him, and he was how they’d found the connection to the club. Somehow, though, she and Keith seemed very shifty every time they mentioned talking to the fence, and Shiro realized that he’d have to get that story out of them once he had the energy for it.

 

Once Shiro had gone through everything he knew, with Pidge queasily adding in everything she’d found out from the control panel – some of the features and options he hadn’t been aware of made Shiro’s stomach turn – the officers had Shiro identify as many aliens as possible through holograms. He recognized a good percentage of the faces, and the readiness with which the profiles were available made him glare wearily at the officers surrounding him. It confirmed that they’d known. They’d known and had let this happen to who knew how many people until someone “important” was taken by accident. He wanted to upbraid them for it all, force them to set about finding the previous victims **now** and doing whatever it took to help them – or avenge them, he acknowledged with a dull sense of dread – but every time he looked at his tablet and tried to think about where to start with all of that, his mind went blank. He let Allura step forward and do what he wanted to do this time. Pidge and Keith backed her up with silent menace, and Shiro tried to just keep his breathing even whenever an officer came too close to where he sat.

 

Finally, they could leave. The knowledge that Argum in particular was already in a cell and would face harsh penalties under the law made Shiro’s stomach settle a bit as they left, and a cold sense of satisfaction slipped in. From the frantic way the officers had tried to win Allura and Shiro’s approval, Shiro knew that Argum wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of punishment as he apparently had in the past.

 

They needed to stay on the planet for a day or two longer until they could get the Black Lion in good enough shape to leave, but all the Paladins opted to stay in the Castle the entire time. They’d gotten offers to stay in the luxurious high-rises, but no one had been interested. Allura in particular had seemed to take great vindictive pleasure in turning the meek and increasingly desperate offers of hospitality down.

 

-

 

The night before they could leave, Shiro slept restlessly. He couldn’t remember what he dreamed and he was glad of that, but he still woke up more than once with chilled sweat dampening his sheets and a scream strangled in his throat.

 

Finally, he gave up on sleep. The room was already dimly lit; turning the lights completely off while he rested had sent his mind back to the empty club and it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to come back to himself. At least the low light meant that he didn’t have to turn the lights on while he got up and got dressed. It was a clumsy process with one arm, since Coran was still running a few more tests on his prosthetic and it had to be left in the lab, but the feeling of cloth against his skin was reassuring, so he hurried through as quickly as possible, shivering at the brief touch of the air on his naked skin.

 

Dressed and more than ready to be moving, Shiro took to wandering the halls of the Castle. He let himself hum tunelessly when he was far enough from the others’ sleeping quarters, not wanting to wake them up but needing the reassurance of hearing his own voice now that it had been restored. Still, fully enclosed rooms had become a bit of a challenge – one he would overcome, but probably not tonight – so Shiro eventually found himself in one of the observation rooms, one with a broad window opening out to the night. In sleepless nights before, he would come here to watch the stars, but now the view was of the strange forest he’d crashed in. It wasn’t the stars, but it was at least better than the windows on the other side of the Castle, looking over the city where – the forest was definitely the better option.

 

Shiro put his arm against the glass and rested his head on his forearm, leaning toward the window and just watching the spindly trees sway. He sighed, watching his breath fog the window. He’d have to figure out how to conquer these new fears soon; he couldn’t just panic every time someone loomed over him when he was sitting, or keep finding excuses not to sit on the floor – the Alteans’ apparent disinterest in sitting-appropriate furniture made the latter more of a challenge than he’d expected. He’d dealt with overcoming ingrained fears before, but this time his memory of the events causing them was crystal clear, and he still couldn’t decide if that was worse or actually a relief.

 

The others were still tiptoeing around him, too. For whatever blessed reason, Coran, at least, wasn’t, so Shiro had spent much of the last day in the med bay, even after his vocal cords had been repaired. He’d left twice to do some basic training so he could adjust to fighting while down an arm, just in case something happened before it could be reattached, but when the strong urge to interact with someone crept up again, he searched out Coran.

 

Wherever Shiro went, though, one or more of the other Paladins would inevitably show up on some flimsy excuse and hang around until Allura called them to help with cleaning things up with the local police – in Keith and Lance’s case – or to help with the Black Lion’s repairs – for Pidge and Hunk. It was sweet, and Shiro really did appreciate it. It kept him focused on the present, whether through their chatter or just their quiet presence, depending on the teenager. Still, there was a hesitance to some of their interactions, a gentleness that Shiro didn’t need. He was going to be fine, and the best thing to do would be to move on, now that the planet’s authorities had become involved and taken over dealing with the rot within the city. He’d be fine.

 

Shiro sighed again. He figured that the best he could do for now was act as normally as possible, and they’d get past it eventually.

 

For now, he needed to focus. They’d be leaving in the morning; they’d gotten a distress signal from a planet in a nearby system and it sounded like Voltron would be needed to deal with the fleet there, suspiciously large for such a strategically unimportant planet.

 

He seriously considered what little they knew about the new planet – if the lack of knowledge sent a shiver along his spine and set his nerves on edge, he shoved the chill away and forged onward anyway, there was no other choice – and chewed on his chapped bottom lip while he thought. It was a mostly agricultural planet with wide shallow oceans inhabited by most of the population, no signs of resistance that would justify so much Galra presence – there had to be something they were missing, perhaps some resource had been discovered recently? Whatever the cause, if it was interesting to the Empire, disrupting what they were doing would strike a significant blow…

 

Even lost in thought, Shiro still heard the approaching footsteps before the door slid open and he was able to recognize the pace without looking. Still gazing out at the forest absently, he asked, “Keith, what are you doing up?”

 

He heard Keith huff behind him and predictably, fire back, “What about you?” The footsteps came closer, and soon Keith was in his peripheral vision, standing with his arms crossed.

 

Shiro felt a smile tug at his lips and he pushed himself off the window so he was standing straight again, hand tucked into a pocket. He turned to Keith and shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

 

The furrow between Keith’s brows deepened, but he just nodded and Shiro turned to face the forest again. They stood in comfortable silence for a while. Ever since he’d gotten his voice back, Shiro had been more tempted to fill gaps in conversation than usual, as if needing to prove to himself that he wasn’t silenced anymore. Talking did hurt his throat, sore as it still was, but the reassurance was worth it, if he could find the excuse. Right now, though… Silence was something he and Keith had always been able to share. He felt no urge to break it just yet.

 

The planet’s moons moved across the sky, and eventually Keith spoke up. “You know we don’t think less of you, right?” It was abrupt and to-the-point, and so **Keith** that Shiro’s lips twitched in a smile despite everything.

 

It took him a minute to nod, though. “Yeah,” he said, sounding unconvincing to even himself. He cleared his throat and tried for a more reassuring tone, “I know.”

 

Keith’s arms were still crossed, and Shiro could see his reflection in the window frowning. “We don’t,” he insisted. “They were awful people and deserve worse than they’re getting, but the way everyone sees **you** hasn’t changed.”

 

Shiro sighed and made himself make eye contact with Keith, if only through their reflections. “Keith…” he tried, breaking off and sighing. “I was taken down by one guy because I wasn’t paying attention. Anyone who walked into that place could control me without even trying – what kind of Defender of the Universe does that make me? They…” he’d said it so many times now, to his team and to the police, but it never seemed to get easier, and he settled on, “used me, sexually, like a **thing** , and I let it happen. And everyone knows.” He swallowed reflexively, hand curling into a fist in his pocket, and made himself go on. “You saw what was happening. I couldn’t…”

 

“Shiro…” Keith’s reflection had turned to look directly at Shiro, but Shiro couldn’t look away from the window just yet. “It doesn’t **matter**. Not in the way everyone sees you. Awful things happened to you, but it just means you survived, and came back to us in one piece.”

 

Despite the tense mood, or maybe because of it, Shiro couldn’t let that one go by. He finally looked over at Keith and shrugged with his stump. “Two pieces, actually,” he corrected, trying to keep his face solemn.

 

Keith’s face did something complicated, then he made a frustrated noise in his throat and insisted anyway, “You’re still **you**. You’re our friend, and the leader of Voltron, and nothing those people did to you can change that.”

 

All the others had said some variation on this, whether right after Shiro told them what happened or when they caught him in private later, but more than anything, it made him feel like a fraud.

 

Keith seemed to pick up on that in Shiro’s hesitation, and he bluntly said, “What if it had been one of us?” Shiro’s whole body tensed. Keith honed in on this and went on, “If someone else on the team had been caught by those people, would you think they were, I don’t know, weak or something? Because something awful happened to them when they were outnumbered and alone?”

 

There was a hint of something like guilt in Keith’s voice by the end, but Shiro still couldn’t get past the idea of one of the others subjected to what he had been. Even the thought of it made him go cold and his breathing pick up. “No,” he insisted automatically. “I would never.”

 

Keith leaned forward. “Then stop blaming yourself.”

 

It was perfect logic and Shiro couldn’t think of any arguments to counter it, but he still felt like it was wrong somehow. He wanted to protest – he should never have let any of that happen, it had been humiliating and slowed down the team while they had to look for and rescue him, and he would be a liability in combat until Coran could reattach his arm. Even now, Keith was losing sleep over him, because he couldn’t handle his own damn mind.

 

But all the same, Shiro had learned to push through, or at least live with, the guilt of what he’d been made to do in captivity once already, and that part of him knew Keith had a point.

 

He took a breath, released it, and tried to stop for a moment and actually think about what Keith had said. He couldn’t wallow forever. The idea of everything happening to someone else made fury rise in his blood, but the only people he’d blame in that case were Argum and the other captors and customers. He didn’t think less of the previous victims for being outnumbered by an organization of people who methodically took advantage of that. And he knew, in a small silver lining that he clung to desperately, that if he hadn’t been taken, someone else would have been. If it hadn’t been someone with a team who cared and had the resources to scour the city, who knew how long the operation would have continued for before it was stopped? Shiro had only been in that place for a couple of days, and he’d survived it, at any rate.

 

“You’re right,” Shiro finally said. Keith nodded, and they both went back to staring at the swaying trees. "I'm going to be okay."

 

Maybe if he said it enough, Shiro would eventually convince himself, too.


End file.
